Who Really Knows Me?

Thoughts and entanglements from the limits of my mind 
Within in the cerebral cortex; 
Fissured and deep
The folded contours
The map of my life
In laminar flow across
Hemispheres;
Woven, those gossamer threads,
Tangled wires of emotion,
Beads 
Of thought
Which link us to places
Long buried;
When awakened, they
Resurface, fragmented
From the hidden depths.

Each of us carries
The map of our lives
On our skin 
In the way that we move 
In the people we meet.
Recognisable 
Of that inner cognition?
Or refined and guarded
A manicured exterior?
The mirror’s reflection,
Intricately complicated,
So I hardly know myself,
And yet in One 
I am fully known
For we are beautifully and 
Wonderfully made.