If I knew God, I woud know my name (neti)

I am not 'this'
whatever you say;
the luxury of doubt
is purchased with dear
coinage painfully
precious to let go.

Ever the uncertainty,
always rethinking,
constant release
of cherished tenets
found to be shadows
of truth, lines in a play.

Nowhere is the rock
upon which to build
strong faith in anything;
golden were the days
before this awakening
into the maelstrom.

Proof - there is none:
cogito ergo sum
pretends to place ego
centrally existent
yet this self cries out
neti, neti, not this.