Who am i?

Am I the “who” of whom I ask, “Who am I?”
Or the “I” who asks?
That I wonder at all, tells me
that there must be another me
who is not an “I.”

The answer of which I’m thinking
holds the “answer I cannot think of” for ransom.
If I refuse to pay, I am a murderer.
If I pay, I must die.

The chick within the egg
consumes the very yolk
which gives it life.
I am the chick, I am the yolk, and I am the shell.

The yolk of my soul is the unseen “I”
The chick is the “I” who reasons
and the shell is the “I”
which separates the entire egg
from the from Truth.

I am the You-ness
who names me as I am, as You are..
I am called the hidden one,
the thinking one,
and the fragile container.
Without You
others call call me many things.
With You,
I am nameless.

When I break open,
reason is freed.
It picks with its beak at seeds in the dust
and dissolves into the truth
and becomes the dust.

I am the truth
with which I seek to reveal the truth.
I am the unlit lantern in the dark.
I am the darkness which awaits the lantern.
Light the wick, oh nameless One,
so that we both can see the other.

I am not who I am,
I am who I am not.

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