It all begins with a question
“Who am I?”
Am I just a bundle of flesh and bones?
No. I’m something more than that,
Am I just a mind which thinks?
Or am I just a heart that feels,
Deep inside am I something more?
What is it that makes me?
People talk about a soul,
But have I ever really felt it?
So who am I? I have got past.
Am I a collection of memories?
I look hopefully towards the future
Am I defined by my emotions and feelings?
Or by my character, my personality, my traits,
Which I have built all over the years!
But am I really living the way I want?
I have been influenced by people
In that case, I am just one in a billion
People wear masks, they pretend, they act,
So am I acting too?
Am I living the life I really wanted?
And what is that life which I really wanted?
Will I ever know it?
And even if I know wouldn’t it be influenced
By my upbringing and society!
So what is it which defines me?
The way I look at this world!
But isn’t it a myopic vision,
Narrowed by knowledge and education,
I look only through a keyhole,
And pretend that I see the world.
What if I am alone in this world?
I am born alone, and I grow on my own,
With all my impulses and instincts,
Will I be myself then?
Will I be able to discover the real me?
So what is it which makes me?
Am I defined by my dreams?
We are so obsessed with our dreams
That we wish for reality to be the same.
We see the world with these dreamy eyes,
Which blurs the line between reality.
And the question lingers,
“Who am I?”
Deep down voice echoes
That I am just a traveler,
On the road to self-discovery.