I am who I am or so I think that I am
Or am I just the I that others suppose I am?
With my body and soul set side by side
I ask myself this – who really am I?
Am I real? ... As real as the stars and moon of the night?
A dream I am not, for I can feel the warmth of the light
I can see what I am in the reflection of a pond
I can hear the quivering vocals of this worried song.
Yet… who am I?
I am not you, nor am I he or she
I am no person but the person me.
But who is this me, this I that I seek?
Is existence so vague and life so bleak?
What if the stars and moon are truly untrue?
What if senses are senseless, a chasm of the you?
What if I only am for you believe who I might be?
And once you seize, will my corpse wither, my soul set free?
Then… who am I?
Whether I am the I that you see and believe,
Or a dream which once stirred is no longer perceived.
What time I have to grow as strong as an oak tree,
I’ll enjoy every moment being just me…
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