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.