I storm into the room with a hurricane inside me. In the mirror, I gaze at this figure, with whom, I have things to settle. I have to answer my own questions.

- Who are you??! And don't you dare say your name, what or who is that name referring to?

- In the plane of time, perhaps I’m still young, but only in the present, I was a child before, and later I will become old. Why is this particular moment what matters? Is the current me who I am, or all the versions of me on my timeline, the past me, the present me, and the future me combined, is the “me”? Or maybe there's being without time, like on another constant plane beyond time, like heaven, and only there I come to essence?

- You avoid the question with questions.

You cling to the language you dominate,

as you shape castles from it in the air.

Who are you really?

- I am contemplation, a kind of curiosity,

that doesn't want to decipher the words,

but rather what lies in their shadows, what they hide, and what wasn't written down intentionally or accidentally.

- Contemplation, but not without purpose or aim. Who are you and what do you want to do?!

- I want to silence those who shout beliefs,

and give meaning to the unbelievers. Those who cling, I want to push into the deep;

Those who float in nothingness, I want to embrace. I’m a meaning, yet of course, meaningless. I’m just a path, on a path leading towards new paths.

- But what's the goal? Where do you want to go? And then?

- The goal isn't important, the path is, hopelessly. I hope my path finds new paths,

but if there's no new path, that’s only death.

- Are you rushing or hesitating on your path

And who are you? I ask you one last time!

- I hurry to my path, but not towards my goal. Hesitantly I stop now and then,

there isn’t any-One to expel or drive,

neither death nor life hurry me. I am the employee, who laughs at his boss;

I am the ego, and you are the superego.