Who Are We?

Sometimes I wonder who I am, May be A lie in the name of existence, A bubble in the ocean of life, A bird on the branch set to fly, A morning star ready to set, Or a pearl of dew lying on a leaf Waiting for the sun. The more I think, the worst I feel, The mystery of existence is very deep, Noone has ever touched that depth, The candle burns and completes its course Where is it now? Its beauty, Its grandeur, Its being, And even its wick, Everything is ruined. We drift into enternal sleep and wake up Into another world. We are like apparitions Here are and here are not. Can anyone tell who we are?