|The World appears in infinite forms|
Today I am. Clarity in not knowing.
I don't know who or what, yet I am.
Not in me, not in you, not in it. I am nowhere to be found.
Yet always present.
Perspectives onto myself. Including the perspective. That I am.
I am perspective, one second real, next second unreal.
How do perspectives exist though? Do I exist?
A perspective from which "I" do not exist, that certainly is true.
A perspective from which "I" do exist, that idea certainly is true.
One second on, and off the next. But who makes the switch?
What is true regardless of ideas?
What is prior to concepts?
Concepts and ideas come and go, yet I remain.