Near 20, I was hoping for
too much, too fast. Praying for
hopes and dreams and glorious
memories that I was sure would
last.

What I've got is more than most,
I will admit unapologetically. I
guess that's just the American inside me.

I expect what I have and I'm grateful
for it, if that makes any sense at all.
I have food on my plate and a roof over head, but somehow I yearn for more...a greater call.

Near rhymes are nice, but symphonies of melodic rejoice are more my speed. Things that go together and mesh and generally agree.

I'm looking for a greater self and purpose: things not easily found. I thought I always knew what I wanted, but perhaps I'm not that profound.

I take pride in what I know and love all I can, but is that enough to save a soul? This life is only a short time coming and already partially gone; maybe there's more to this life story than racing towards worldly goals.