What hope do I hold
When I’m next to the rest?
For I am not very bold
And I’m far from the best.
What hope do I have
Among Romeo Montague,
Who leapt into death
In one swift swoon?
What hope do I have
Among Mister Clark Kent,
The Man of Steel
Who remains unbent?
What hope do I have
Among Martin Luther King,
Who wore his heart on the outside
Rather then the hue of his skin?
What hope do I have
Among men like Jesus,
Who took his own body
And broke it in pieces?
What hope can I hold
When I’m next to the rest,
For I am not very bold
And I am so far from the best.
I’ve never climbed a mountain
Without losing my breath.
And I’ve never held a woman
Without being scared to death.
Perhaps there is nothing that I truly lack,
For rather then standing next to others
I should simply stand in back.
The question I have for each father and sage
Does the path I trek become easier in years
Or even harder with age?
...no...
I’ve set a new trip,
Followed my heart,
Taking life’s script
Rewriting my part.
I’ll embrace my own way
Rather then try to condemn,
I’ll discard the man
That I’ve been made,
And just be the man I am.