Was there something I was not supposed to be
Standing tattered against an abrasive wind
The sandblast nature of living that shapes
the sculpted figure that stands within our mind
Which tears washed away the cuttings
and which cut the structure of my soul
Tethered as much to a past as we are to a future
Perhaps what is strewn behind us
is also strewn out ahead of us
This imperfect assemblage of matter and ethos
The pains and the joys woven together as strands
of a web that truss both heart and soul
Was there something I was not supposed to be....