I have a window in my room,
and every single day it seems to get narrower.
I start all my sentences with
I , me and mine, and every single
day there is a struggle between two I’s,
one with knowledge and other I with Consciousness.
I have a tongue and no ears.
And my tears are tears.
Who is this I anyway,
and why is this I shrinking every single.
The room had a window ,now it is more or less just a hole.