Who am I to say that I am more significant than the birds? Don’t even they sleep and wake as I do?

In my mind I like to seclude the thought that only I exist, when in reality we share the world with everything under the stars. Every last molecule put together to make me as special as I am could match those of a rock, or tree, had they been altered some in the great creation.

The core of my mind and attendance of my thoughts give me free will and a hope to live on in a world of individuals. I recognize that my heart is put together the same as my arm, and the same as my hand. If I poke it hard enough it will feel and react, break and bleed. Unlike my heart, my mind can’t be touched or altered. I can’t use anyone else’s mind to live on.

My thoughts, not my beating heart, keep me alive and make me who I am;

don’t even the birds think?