This is beautifully written and deeply awakening. It feels like a quiet journey beyond the emotions, memories, and identities we have carried for so long, into the presence that has always been watching beneath them all.
That final question stays with me: who is the one who sees?
Maybe we are not every thought that enters, every fear we feel, or every story we remember. Maybe we are the awareness holding it all—the stillness beneath the movement, the witness beneath the noise.
Powerful, honest, and soul-stirring writing, my friend. 🤍✨
Thank you, my friend. I noticed that too. It feels like we were both listening to the same deeper current today, just expressing it through our own hearts. I love when that happens. 🤍✨
I love how this never tries to answer the question. It simply stays with it. Sometimes that's the most honest place a piece of writing can take us. Thank you.
Nat, I can't say how much this spoke to me. At the beginning I was immediately drawn to the sea metaphor and as I read it felt like I can hear that little girl too.
Reading this brought so much to mind. We are many things. We encounter many things. Some settle some don't. But who we become. Our journeys are linked with so many things. I know who I am now. But who is the one who sees? Now that is an interesting. I would hope it would be the one who has become. Thank you for this thoughtful read. I enjoyed. 🌹
So in a moment your talent n heart shares a page written through ears eyes penmanship oh a delight to enjoy your written words thx kindly for sharing it
Gah, I love this one. Feeling and remembering is so slippery, isn't it? This makes thing so much about what you and I both write about, our relationship with and to our younger selves. It is so very complicated...
What I admired most is the quiet architecture of the poem. Each stanza peels away another layer—first the world outside, then sensation, then emotion, then memory, then thought itself. By the time you arrive at "Who is writing?" the reader has been gently led to the same question rather than simply being asked to consider it.
I also appreciated that you never try to answer the question. Lesser poems would end by offering certainty, but yours remains faithful to wonder. That makes the title feel perfectly chosen. The poem isn't a declaration of insight; it's an invitation to inhabit a question that has occupied philosophers and contemplatives for centuries.
The repetition of "I am the one..." is particularly effective because its meaning quietly evolves. At first it sounds observational. By the end, it has become an inquiry into the nature of the observer itself. That's a subtle but powerful shift.
I'm happily subscribing because I enjoy writing that doesn't rush to conclusions but trusts readers to linger inside a genuine question. I also write at The Reflective State, where I'm often drawn to those moments when ordinary experience opens onto something more contemplative. If curiosity ever leads you there, I'd be delighted to have you read some of my work and share your thoughts.
Thank you so much for this lovely comment. You really grasped what I was trying to do. I can’t answer the question . . . I find the more I learn, the more I think, the less I know and much of my writing reflects this. I will definitely be looking up some of your writing , it feels like we are on a similar wave length.
This is beautifully written and deeply awakening. It feels like a quiet journey beyond the emotions, memories, and identities we have carried for so long, into the presence that has always been watching beneath them all.
That final question stays with me: who is the one who sees?
Maybe we are not every thought that enters, every fear we feel, or every story we remember. Maybe we are the awareness holding it all—the stillness beneath the movement, the witness beneath the noise.
Powerful, honest, and soul-stirring writing, my friend. 🤍✨
Thank you Aaron. Funny how our posts today explore sumilar themes
Thank you, my friend. I noticed that too. It feels like we were both listening to the same deeper current today, just expressing it through our own hearts. I love when that happens. 🤍✨
I love how this never tries to answer the question. It simply stays with it. Sometimes that's the most honest place a piece of writing can take us. Thank you.
I can’t answer the question because I haven’t found the answer yet
Nat, I can't say how much this spoke to me. At the beginning I was immediately drawn to the sea metaphor and as I read it felt like I can hear that little girl too.
This is written very beautifully.
I see you. ❤️
thank you imi, it is not my usual style but it grabbed me and I couldn’t put it down.
Reading this brought so much to mind. We are many things. We encounter many things. Some settle some don't. But who we become. Our journeys are linked with so many things. I know who I am now. But who is the one who sees? Now that is an interesting. I would hope it would be the one who has become. Thank you for this thoughtful read. I enjoyed. 🌹
So in a moment your talent n heart shares a page written through ears eyes penmanship oh a delight to enjoy your written words thx kindly for sharing it
Gah, I love this one. Feeling and remembering is so slippery, isn't it? This makes thing so much about what you and I both write about, our relationship with and to our younger selves. It is so very complicated...
What I admired most is the quiet architecture of the poem. Each stanza peels away another layer—first the world outside, then sensation, then emotion, then memory, then thought itself. By the time you arrive at "Who is writing?" the reader has been gently led to the same question rather than simply being asked to consider it.
I also appreciated that you never try to answer the question. Lesser poems would end by offering certainty, but yours remains faithful to wonder. That makes the title feel perfectly chosen. The poem isn't a declaration of insight; it's an invitation to inhabit a question that has occupied philosophers and contemplatives for centuries.
The repetition of "I am the one..." is particularly effective because its meaning quietly evolves. At first it sounds observational. By the end, it has become an inquiry into the nature of the observer itself. That's a subtle but powerful shift.
I'm happily subscribing because I enjoy writing that doesn't rush to conclusions but trusts readers to linger inside a genuine question. I also write at The Reflective State, where I'm often drawn to those moments when ordinary experience opens onto something more contemplative. If curiosity ever leads you there, I'd be delighted to have you read some of my work and share your thoughts.
Thank you so much for this lovely comment. You really grasped what I was trying to do. I can’t answer the question . . . I find the more I learn, the more I think, the less I know and much of my writing reflects this. I will definitely be looking up some of your writing , it feels like we are on a similar wave length.
Beautiful poem, Nat. Wow.
Love this 🫶