My poi are not a tool. They are not a prop. They are not an artificial entity upon which I imbue meaning and metaphor. My poi are not another person or a cell phone. My poi are not a belt or a cup of coffee. My poi are an extension of me. My poi are a part of me. They are a living, breathing extension of my hopes, dreams, and ambitions. They feel my sadness and joy, my aches and pains. They are as much a part of me as my hands, fingers, and eyes. They are an extension of my expression. They emote with my pursed lips. They leap for joy with my springy legs. My poi are not an other thing.