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Who am I?
D’ you know it? Shall I know it some day?
I am my own way,
the waiting room of the being
That is waiting for me.
Today I’ve been a coward, a genius yesterday
And a stupid some other day;
I am an exhausted walker,
A deserted way,
A passing cloud
A gentle rain
A sour tear
A lonely wind
An extinguished fire.
And who knows what
I’ll be tomorrow.
And what about you,
Do you know who are you?
How many “you” are in you?
And who are all those people around…?
Do you know what “to be” means?
Tell it to me, please
I am yearning to know it.