Like a Robot
Glowing faint blue
a room
small, simple and futuristic.
It is one smooth
curve, the wall
blends with the ceiling so perfectly
I cannot discern where
the walls end and where
the ceiling starts.
The instrument panel emits
an array of soft pink and blue,
but the screen makes as little
sense to me as the display panel in
a submarine.
There is something strange
about the way I see the walls and
the light pink instrument panels.
It is as if my soul, tired of waiting,
has lifted silently, travelled to a spot five feet
over my legs, and is looking at
my own body.
For a moment, I panic.
Am I dead? Could this
be some sort of an after-death
experience?
Then I realize
I am not dead. No. Thank god.
I am able to assume
that perspective without much effort.
That’s where I excel. Throughout my life, I have been
meditating; transposing
my perspective
is one of my favorite
pastimes. I am like
a robot,
of the future.
[[Photo courtesy: Chris 73/Wikimedia]
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Simpani 
Enjoyed reading. Read for the third time after seeing the tags. 🙂
Nice one.
like this poem a lot. i identify with this, seeing urself from outside. it kinda desensitizes u, i think, if it happens too often