Every day, I lose a bit,
Every day I grow anew;
Every cartilage still fits,
Every symmetrical sinew.
Where are all the parts I lost?
Are they still a part of me?
What is my production cost?
Who composed my symphony?
Is my entity complete
Without the parts that went away?
Does my unity deplete
Further with every passing day?
And what of the replenishing stock
Of cells that now make up my frame,
That mark the progress of the clock
That ticks eternal ‘gainst my name?
Do they possess an equal claim
As those who left me in the lurch
To share in my immortal fame,
To pour libations in my church?
Why am I not viewed as one,
But a manifest multitude?
Why haven’t I dominion
Over my self created brood?
Do I grow or just break apart?
From whom is this judgement due?
And when I cease my beating heart,
Who, mortals, will be judging you?