The Closing of an I...

From a certain aspect,
An end is in view.
I lie at the mercy of fortune,
I say I, but I lie,
Insofar as I remain,
It is not I, Why not I?
Infirmed by unsteady mind,
I am to be overcome,
A kind of work not of my own,
Yet my own cause,
A primary blunder of desire,
The necessity of a deficient nature.
Where do I go?
To where goes the I?
The I opens to pure passion,
And closes to every thing without,
Without knowing in any true fashion,
Possessed only of its very own doubt.