The Hyperboloid

Who am I?

I am not the gross body, which is made of flesh.

I am not the five senses, of sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch.

I am not the image inside the mirror.

I am not the object in relation to space.

I am not the possessions that I have acquired. 

I am not the heritage, for I do not care.

I am not the moment that is ever fleeting.

I am not the happiness that has graced my life.

I am not the sadness that which is inevitable.

I am not the pleasures, those damned illusions.

I am not the pain that refreshes my dull existence.

I am not the lust for the beautiful and the ugly.

I am not the hunger that thirsts for more.

I am not the fear that looms over all things.

I am not the courage that endures.

I am not the faith that comforts.

I am not the despair that triumphs.

I am not the memories that dissipate.

 

I am not the visions in my dreams.

I am not the high on psychedelics.

I am not the compassion of Bodhisattvas.

I am not the love of God.

I am not the desires that created this world.

I am not the intuition that has written this story.

I am not the perception, that experiences. 

I am not the mind, that thinks. 

 

I am not the writer.

I am not the philosopher.

I am not the artist.

I am not the designer.

I am not the architect.

 

After negating all the aforementioned ‘I am not’, ‘I am not’. 

The awareness which alone remains - that I am.