There is no continent
that houses me
I'm my own-
in my liberty
I create my horizon
my space and my possibility
therein is my self-crafted land-
all that I count as reality
is what I conceive, feel and see
distilled by time and experience
I can't exist without my individuality--

living is never easy
and falling away there are too many
the grim existential condition vexes too readily
life to most seems to be a matter for pity--

here I stand, alone, fragile, weather-worn
but undaunted and stubbornly free
to defeat and despair I was not born
fearlessly I carve my own dream and destiny.