Ego

It is already here,
For I have brought it with me.
I thought it had been lost.
I thought that it had been effaced.
I thought the wind and the words
had worn it all away.
I thought it all had been washed
away by the endless rains.
Or that the stares and glances
had chipped and cut it away.
And I, too, had carved into it.
I thought I could shape it or refine it.
I had thought I could scrape it off.
I thought I could kill it.
But it is here,
where I must leave it.