Who are we? Who am I?

Maybe the question, if we take the time and exhibit the patience, should be framed differently and hung in a more fluid position.

Perhaps we are not meant to be categorised or simplified or compressed and analysed, or detailed and specified, or defined and stigmatised.

We are – is not I am. I do – is not you are.

The only thing for certain while you breathe is that you breathe.

The rest is in a constant state of flux, reacting to the states of the other and others reacting to the state of you, as much as you can be understood or at least recognised.


For we only really truly see ourselves and see one another when we see nothing but what we reflect. We are at once another’s antithesis and symbiosis without any contradiction. Just a deeper travelled state of intangible, beautiful self. We bound ourselves by the parameters we have forced upon us, restrictions on all the joy we could ever imagine shape us before we return to the shapeless.

So then; who am I is who we are made by that which we don’t accept but are forced to abide by.

We are nothing and everything without knowledge, only learned presumption.

We are the universe and not a single piece of us matters to it.

For when we travel we do so piggy backing on the planet which moves for us, which moves us. Our time is not taken it is borrowed.

We don’t shape we are shaped, bending to will where we will will to bend.

I am everything you see.

But none of us see anything more than our limits allow.

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