It occurs to me that life is a struggle,
One where we constantly strive to find ourselves…
Occasionally we do find ourselves…
Then as quickly as we realize who we are,
It can be torn away from us,
And make us feel lost without identity.
I, at one point, knew exactly who I was…
Or so I thought…
Now that my life has been ripped from me,
And the wounds are beginning to heal,
I now realize, that I never knew who I was.
In my efforts, throughout the past cycles of time,
I have found that who I am,
And who I have be striving to become,
Is not, in any way, who I want to be.
The world has many riches and mysteries…
All of which I have decided that I must witness.
I am so familiar with this world I know,
And because of this I must leave.
I have been sheltered for so long…
This closed square box has kept me from living,
And in order to live, I must discover, for myself…
That the world is neither flat, nor round…
The world is a multitude of shapes and sizes that cannot be seen…
At least not from here.
