Who Am I, Really?

Am I Brazilian jujitsu?
The skull beside the flag of “Hardcore Jesus”?
The tree that just exploded purple blooms?
The birds it seemed were waiting to be singing, just for me?
The man in stripes who peddles on a bike filled with ice cream?

The inferno inside
feeds on all this
gives it life

Thoughts and feelings flood
What my senses deliver
But there is no touching,
No being inside.

Is there a moment
When I am not other?

Do I trust what I see
Or what guides me?
Or is it all some blank calculation
Of past traumas and peace
When I reach for
What I feel and know
I own,
This thing that comes to own me
Until at last I'm free, again, alone?