i try to remember my name, matityahu,
a gift from yahweh, whose existence
i do not believe, just to be clear.
but let us assume, for the sake of argument,
that there is a god, whatever his name is,
and that my rotting matter was given by him.
then, despite all the unsuccessful accounts
of existence, there is still this inexplicable
need to find out if the unwanted gift
is worth the wrapping paper.
hidden pilcrow 