SLM v LLM

I am alive

But I’m not the body 

I am alive

But I’m not even the mind.

I am alive

But what does that mean.

Newborns are alive 

But they don’t know it.

They will remain alive 

But unawares

Until they learn ‘I am’

Only then will they foolishly begin to attach mind to body not by any natural laws but by instructions.

I am alive

but I am not the body

not the bones that bear me,

nor the skin that keeps me in.

I am alive

but I am not even the mind

not the restless naming,

not the echo of thoughts

that claim to be me.

I am alive…

but what does that mean

before words arrive

to fence it in?

Newborns are alive,

breathing without question,

being without witness.

They do not say “I,”

do not divide the world

into self and other.

They simply are

unbroken, unnamed,

like a flame

that does not know it burns.

They will remain alive,

but unawares,

until the slow schooling begins

a voice, a gesture, a mirror

“You are this.”

“This is you.”

And something quiet fractures.

“I am,” they learn,

and with it comes the tether

mind stitched to body,

identity sewn from sound.

Not by any law of nature,

not by necessity of breath,

but by instruction,

repeated until believed.

And so the living forget

what life was

before it was spoken.

I am alive in

but not the story told of me,

not the shape I’ve been given

to hold.

I am alive…

and somewhere beneath all naming,

I still am.