From Worship - A Riddle

Many heads on one body
who are they? what are they?
different every time
a clean slate every day
absolving the many sins

When i had nothing you gave to me
when i was not loved you loved me
there can be no price on this exchange
you are judge of my all
and i trust your judgement

My poems exist only in the immediate
they begin to fade with my voice
and they cease to exist with their fading in your memory
they know no page, no disc, no tape
they are only for the moment,
for you
and I like it that way