Who am I? That is the never-ending quest into the now. I am who i am, by spirit not choice, though proud. I am a Man, trying to fall into some sort of love, with my own skin. I am an orphan, so I in turn love the whole world, and the belly of your need becomes my family, however long you stay. I run away... I like to call it flying, but humans have feet, so run it is. I am a poet. While I would like to sometimes detach myself from that soul driven affliction, alas I embrace that the world finds joy in the eloquent way I wash my souls laundry. I am submissive, but only to those I choose trustworthy of that gift. I am strong, but get weak in the knees for a pretty face. I am driven, if for no other reason than to show that I can. Somehow usefulness equates to love in my book. Not that others have to be useful,But that I must be useful to earn love. There is truth in that, no matter how much everyone denies it. If I believe in your dreams, and you make your dreams come true and I get to see you fly, and then I am happy. deeper... who am I? I am disease, healing. I am a writer and life is my scroll. I am an artist with so much to learn. I am life, even though the world thinks I am dying. I am weak, but only so you can be strong. I have knowledge, yet I am also often wrong. I am blind to the beauty that you see, who am I? Hold that thought... while I uncover who is me.
