All of my life I’ve been known by my name,
And yet as I’ve grown I’ve not been the same.
Hoped my identity would be clearer,
No answer when I look in the mirror—
Who am I?
Born in a world of infinite places,
Encounters with these infinite faces,
My restless spirit seems destined to roam,
Wondering still when I think I’m at home—
Where am I?
Not accidental that I came to be,
But may have missed out on my destiny.
And though I’ve done things of which I am proud,
None of them stop me from asking out loud—
Why am I?
Each moment I age life’s completion nears,
And I regret I might run out of years.
I’m meant for something I need to make so,
But all of this time and I still don’t know—
When will I?
Blogging at insightshurt.blogspot.com
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