Listen to poem:
Who Am I
Am I what I
can become since my die was cast?
Or is fate concrete-set immutable,
with me a bystander.
I think, have doubts, which confirms that I am exists,
but can promote and foster the universal
illusion of separate self,
in the soul's search for happiness and fulfillment.
Am I my mind,
or something deeper, undefined,
in a shifting fleeting game that I learn,
to play, get better at,
in time, with more trials and experiences?
Alas, there's no way of knowing where the truth lies.
Whether I am a fish cruising
alone, or in an 'I am' school of like 'am' kind.
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