What are you?

where are you?
what are you?
what is my soul?
my life,
what is a day,
a breath?
is it a question,
an answer,
a mystery?
or a collection of moments
shared between heartbeats
and fingertips
a collection of senses
savored in memory jars
the smell
of coffee
of dripping sunrises
and summer evenings
the touch
of paper pages
in old books
the chill of snow
and skin brushing skin
running up your spine,
taste
exploding on your tounge
tangerine
chocolate
sweet and sour
the sight
of colors and light
clashing,
crashing into corners
cracks
and glass
casting shadows
in a sleeping forest.
and what of breath?
is it more
than just substance
filling lungs,
perhaps existence
is found there,
in the moment
air is expelled
and passed
between lips.