Identity

23 Jan 2016 life

When we talk to ourselves,
who talks to who,
and who is it
that hears the conversation?

Who is it
that can observe
all this going on,
and wonder:
who are all these I’s?

Perhaps they are all
just smoke and mirrors,
eddies in the flow of consciousness,
the river of “I am”.

Evanescent,
like rain drops,
forming and dissolving,
each one catches the light
for a moment,
and then disappears.