Who claims to look out?
Who claims to be me?
Who goes there?

Asks the watcher...
Ching Ching, Ching Ching
His lantern rattling in the void

Who holds this space?
Who holds the name?
Who goes there?

Silence to the ear
Yet not to the feel
There, it is always there
the presence

Chip Chip, Chip Chip
The veneer chips away

"It is I"
The voice
"And the name"