I am simply something aware of itself And that's all I know

A flicker of observation Drifting through a formless expanse

A witness without edges A pulse floating between moments

That may not even be moments A thought that notices the thought

The space behind the noticing A breath breathing itself

A question unasked, yet always there What is this, who is this asking

Does it matter, does the air know it is air

Does the ocean know it is an ocean Or is it just movement

Responding to gravity To wind to an ancient push

Older than memory Older than the word old

I walk in a skin suit, mostly water Yet none of this feels entirely mine

Flesh on bones, on stories, on stories Layers of forgetting, of naming, of grasping

It's solidness, but it's vapour Smoke in a hall of mirrors

And I stand here, or float here Or whatever this is

Looking out of eyes That are not separate from what they see

Sometimes I think I am a dream Sometimes I think I am the dreamer

Sometimes I think I am the space between And sometimes I don't think at all

Maybe that's the closest I get to truth

I am simply something aware of itself A shimmer, a maybe, a maybe not

A note in a song without a beginning or end And that's all I know

But even that knowing feels like guessing And maybe that's enough