If I, myself, am me,
remaining one,
I count that one two three—

a father, son
and always something else,
like nothing, none

but what I call my self.
As father, I'm
responsible. I help,

and I'm on time.
The son is that in me
which needs. Sublime

this mystery of three-
in-one and one in three.

If what I am
includes what I will be,
then, not a gram

of mass, that spirit's me.
If what I was,
my name's in jeopardy

from rumor's buzz.
If what I might or could,
confusion does

not end. I wear no hood
and what I am
I am, here, now, for good.

I am, I am,
I am, ad nauseam!