POEM: Figment

I'm in a special 
mode of mind.
One in which nothing 
is ahead or behind.

Everything is shades
of a me that doesn't exist.

So, maybe I'm
a reflection 
of all that is --
in as much as 
there is an "I."

I don't know how
I slipped into this
anti-solipsist stance --
believing everything exists,
but I.

I'm a figment,
but since I can't be
a figment of my own imagination,
I'm not sure what 
flavor of figment
I might be.