What Defines Me?

What defines me?
A tiny speck or gigantic life;
depending on whom you ask.
What am I?
What matter of man or organic material,
or twinkle in the Creator's eye
am I?
Am I
by definition
to be strained and sieved
and discarded?
What defines
what becomes of me?
If I am philosophical
does that make me wise?
And if I am wise
does that make me godly?
If I ask too many questions
will I make bad poetry,
or if I make my poems more self centered,
will they become more self - aware?
Can a man be enlightened -
nay - 
can I be enlightened?
When a Christian be depressed
is he still a Christian,
or is joy the new stoicism?
Where is the very boundary of the universe?
If I found it,
would I matter?
What's beyond that boundary,
nothing?
But then,
isn't nothing something,
so as to mean that even in nothing there is still existence?
What defines the universe
seen and unseen and what
cards do unseen hands hold?
If a man lives
in a plurelistic world,
is he,
by definition also plurelistic
as a virus is a virus despite any inherent personality?
What defines each blade of grass,
each snowflake,
each pine needle?
I saw my first snowflake
by my naked eye on Sunday.
I saw it, defined
like a little crystalline sculpture
on the side of my car.
But it is the bus for me
and such,
as such,
I melt down
undefined.
In America
where I wish I could slip
back to me sometimes,
and sometimes
I wear this regal mask
or no,
the mask of a clown
makeup really.
Makeup with bright eyes,
and a jagged smile.
To whom I play the fool?
You, really!
To whom I play with faith?
Ay, that is where my heart is!
But where alas is a man's own heart,
if by now it were undiscovered?
It lay
undefined,
like sand before being made
into crystalline glass.

Amen.