"Who Am I"

Who am I—

A Christian who never touched the altar,

A Hindu who never crossed the sanctum’s gate.

Two faiths cast their shadows on me,

Yet neither dares to call me theirs.

One whispers eternity belongs to the One,

The other chants infinity wears many faces.

I believe neither,

And so I am condemned by both.

Who am I—

A wanderer between heavens,

A heretic to every scripture.

Neither saved nor forsaken,

Only forgotten.

A question lingering in the dark,

A riddle carved on tombstones of belief.

Who am I—

An artist who sketches in silence,

As if each line were a scar across eternity.

A salesman cloaked in hollow smiles,

Bartering pieces of his soul.

A poet spilling verses no god would read,

A storyteller haunted by worlds

That die the moment they are born.

Who am I—

A vessel of fragments,

Gifted in all,

Perfect in none.

Perhaps a dreamer—

Or perhaps the dream itself,

Wandering, restless,

Searching for the one who dreamed me.

And if I'm no one dream

Maybe I'm nothing

Only a Shadow

Asking the world, forever