I Do Not Know Where These Words Come From

I do not know where these words come from I write them as if I really exist- The latest research proclaims Hume right There is a succession of states And no real single self- Is it me that is writing these lines? I know my own name I feel myself real But this feeling too is passing Though I can tell you what I did yesterday And what I intend to do today- Someday I will not be here And these lines Will be a representation of some small part of who I was- But will they be? And does it matter? I feel alive writing these lines now Soon I will go out to the morning prayer- I believe that God must save us all Or we will not be saved- I am who I am and still me I know I am real for now- The dreams of a lifetime are in these words The hope of an immortality I will probably never have- I pray that God will be good to those close to me Who I deeply care about- I may be nothing But I pray for them As if they too are real- And live in a world at times happy and beautiful.