I exist, but not in time, for I know not what time is. Time is that which some perceive to be outside of me, but I am outside of nothing. I am everything, the all, I AM.
The author of this piece is aware that I exist. He sees this I to the upper right, and behind him, as he writes. He sees this I as an observer, secondary to him.
He realizes that he cannot locate himself other than to claim that physical evidence of his existence alone should be evidence enough, but he knows that this is not true, for nowhere in his body can he locate where 'he' exists. He is as a form. This is all he knows. I am also without form, and cannot be localized within one, for I am everywhere. He suspects this to be true. He has seen other forms come and go, and understands that his form will eventually disappear. Where will 'he' be then?
He does not know. Hopefullly, he thinks his personality will survive, but as to where and how he doesn't know.
To him, the I that he sees in his mind's eye is impersonal. It is not 'him', for it cannot be contained in a personality.
He doesn't know if other people sense that there is an I watching them, observing them, but he has heard that if they look they can detect its presence too.
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Powerless to capture or contain this I, he can only wonder about it. Why does it watch him? Nothing he does seems to affect it in any way. It does not judge his actions, or celebrate his victories. It only watches.
This I is not evil, like the Eye Of Sauron or something like that, its not that kind of 'eye'. It is neither male or female, has no religious affiliation, asks for nothing, just is, and from all he can tell, has been there 'forever'. Day in, day out, through all the years of his life, I has been there, and if he forgets that it is, all he has to do is take time out to sense its presence. Yes, it's still there.
As he steps away from typing these words, the I observes.