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The Observer

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I think therefore I am,
Or so the saying goes,
But who is this “I”,
No one seems to know?

Am I my green eyes,
My skin’s tannish colored hue,
A heart that beats in my chest,
The feet that fill my shoes?

Am I the fleeting memories,
Of time that’s come to pass,
Or the visionary future self,
I feverishly build and craft?

Am I the deep red blood,
Pumping through my veins,
The love, the passion, the hunger,
Maybe I’m just my name?

What I am seems different,
Definitions can’t suffice,
Oh! Perhaps I am my virtue,
Complimented by my vice.

Nonsense I say!
All states of being change,
Only in silence is found,
That which always remains.

Below the mind’s grumblings,
Underneath the human fervor,
Is simply an awareness,
That I am merely an observer.

-JMB



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