Upon Being Something but Not That

What is this thing, the essential core, the root thing, the original thing, the what! without an answer, what it feels like to touch it and think that it is something, it’s in there somewhere, under my clothes, beneath my flesh, beating inside my heart, deeper than where I can’t take anything more off to find it, ticking, that’s what it’s doing, ticking until I find it, and I really want to find it, before it all happens without me, like when the Zen frog went plop! in the water and I forgot who I was long enough to not notice?