There is the part of my mind that is consciously aware
That you are talking to me
And it takes notes and tells me if anything interesting is going on
It notifies me, quietly
I take over and respond accordingly
With love, or laughter
Sadness, or melancholy
Reflection, or meditation
Whatever the situation requires

There is the part of my mind that is subconsciously aware of other sapient life forms
But it is busy creating forming compiling building planning producing
And it gets notes from the first
Just as I do
And it responds, but not necessarily in a way that is called for
Not necessarily in a way that you would expect
Or even that I would expect

There is the base that wants and craves
It is busy keeping this body alive, full, and satisfied
It gets notes from the first
But it gives notes also
It doesn’t give notes often
But when it does, those notes are the most important
And need to be handled first
With top priority

There is the…
Well, it’s hard to explain
Does this part exist everywhere at once?
Does it teleport from place to place?
Does it disappear and reappear when needed, or not needed?
Regardless of the form, or method, this part notices things
Files things, connects things, joins things
Takes leaps of faith, jumps to reasonable conclusions
It receives no notes from anything or anyone
And it barely gives them out
When it does, they are on dozens of bits of scrap paper of the mind
If you will
And I hope you will
When it gives a note, this is not a top priority
But sometimes it turns out to be the most important of all

And with those four, there is me
I am the Alpha
All the others report to me
But I report to them also
It’s all important, and it’s all necessary
It all makes sense, and it all deconstructs
It all builds, and it all feeds

But sometimes

I falter
I malfunction
I bleed and fail
I crash and hurt and self-destruct
And the sense of self-preservation that we all have
Becomes the most important thing in the universe
Over which nothing holds sway
I must obey, even though I don’t understand
What’s being said, what’s being ordered
When and why it’s being done, or even why it needs to be done
I don’t understand what is happening
Or where the intangible that I follow comes from

Once I thought I had it figured out
I thought that the first, the second, the third and the fourth
For one brief moment
Were all focused on the same thing
Were all requiring the same thing
Were all writing the same note

But it was at that time that I lost touch
I couldn’t hold on
I lost the signal, and it faded
And while seemingly nothing happened
No negative consequences befell me
I can’t help but have the singular feeling that
I am doing something again
I have done this before
I have worked towards something, and lost sight of it
I have perhaps dreamed all this
I have perhaps imagined all this

And there is just me