Maya I Am Poem by Mario Albert Cepeda

Repeated several times, consecutively, Maya becomes I am.
Barely an ice pick to iceberg tip,
we've discovered coverings,
tearing off layers of clothing from history's loins;
penniless thoughts, termed these coins.

I've ran around spiraling into subjective sham,
believing myself, hip, smart as a whip
breaking sound barrier over ordinary people kings
grappling at their own groins
so conjoined.

Iam who I am, Maya
As Time/Space rips
matter facts in with sun hovering
vortexed to darkness shone
more than their shadows show, alone.

Creative science flows over dam
falling wet rumble, made into a drip
recovering
after drying on stones
where nutritive salts have blown.

Maya I am, Maya I am, I am, I am, I am Maya