Tribute to Lewis Carrol

I am plagued by a question,

“Who am I?”

I answer, “I am Kaesi,”

but is that who I am?

after all it’s just a name

that’s not what makes me who I am

so it must be something else.

Upon pondering this I realize,

What proves I am at all?

It lingers, that question

I am, I reassure yourself

I must, but the evidence to support this

is something I just can’t recall

People ask, “Who are you?”

Other’s know they are,

So the question seems light, like it’s something

that can be stated in a word or with a name

but it’s all superficial when what you still question is

If you really are at all.

I’ll have an answer to the question.

I’ll have to.

How can one live without knowing if they are?

But how?

And I wonder that

maybe there is no answer

and I will, just like any answer

to any unanswerable question,

be not.

maybe everything I’ve ever been and ever will be

and everything I decide to do will all be the answer to who I am

that I am what I remember

what I feel, what I think

but for now I still don’t know

If I am or am not.

So I sit and I wait

for the chance that maybe, one day,

I will answer their questions “Who are you”

and my own, “Who am I”.

With “Yes” and smile knowing, with full assurance

that it is true.


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