Who is this I that is wondering,
Constantly churning in its own wandering
Who is this I that is looking for words
Troubled by its own narrative
Who is this I that is cooking stories
Who is this I that feels wobbly…
Shaken in its own turmoil…
Or am I the one watching all this happen
Unaffected, unchanged, untouched
Am I the truth that I am looking for.
Or glimpses that do not stay by
What is the truth,who is the truth,I wonder,I ponder,too much I I I poked every now and then,too much.