There are a few magical combinations of three words, around them the whole world revolves. I have noticed another three words that are quite magical and mysterious – who am I ?
Many a times this question bothers me too, but soon I noticed that throughout the history of mankind, the subject of identity has sent poets to the blank page, philosophers to the agora and seekers to the oracles.
These murky waters of abstract thinking are tricky to navigate, so it’s probably fitting that to demonstrate the complexity.
I recall a poem by Carl Sandburg:
My head knocks against the stars. My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I reach my hands and play with pebbles of destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs reading “Keep Off.”
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