Dit hoeft niets te worden

Where does the blackbird end and where does the rest of the world begin, I wonder while he makes his way through our garden, looking for food. Does it all happen at the outer side of his skin, or at the end of his feathers (what does an end of a feather even look like)? And what about his song then? Should that be included too? Because wherever you hear it you know He is there, isn't he? Or are my words enough to separate him from the rest of the world as something (or someone) which makes sense to me? After a while he takes off to another place, where he – no doubt – will continue to make sense like every other blackbird I have never met before.

If the heart Was turned Into an individual It would die And everything else Would die With it There would simply be No more He or she Nor they or them Or us or we Or you Or me Because what then Would their purpose be If they were Only to exist For themselves