I’m my father, I’m my mother, I might even be another’s, sometimes they’re not sure.I’m my grandparents, my uncles, my aunts and long-lost ancestors and probably more.
I’m my teachers, I’m my babysitters, I’m the mentors that I never had, but asked for.I’m the books I read, the movies I watched, the songs that I sang, and the oaths that I swore.
I’m the ads that bombard us, the slogans that unite us and the fears that incite us. I’m the parties that divide us, the ethics that guide us and the rules that we cuss.
I’m a democrat in a republic, independent but wary of revolution.I’m a Buddist, I’m a Jew, I’m catholic in my tastes but, down deep, a Confucian.
I’m Jean Luc Picard, who was James T. Kirk, who was Gene Roddenberry, who was a dreamer. I’m a searcher, I’m a digger, I’m a brainiatic pit-bull and a bit of a schemer.
I’m the sum of all of my parts, which is my whole fully divided, but never really apart. I’m a speck in the universe, yet I’m a miracle a-la-carte, part heart, part smart, part modern art.
I’m loving, I’m cuddly, I’m caring, I’m thoughtful and I’m good to my core. Yes, I’m irascible and incorrigible, but I’m inquisitive and hardly a bore.
So who am I? So who are you? So who are we that we seek semblance of rapport.We are complex, we are multi-layered, hard to describe but harder to deplore.
Because I’m just like you, but I’m not. I’ve got your looks, but you can tell us apart. I’ve got your concerns, and perhaps your blind spot.
We need not be distraught with fraught about what we ought to have wraught in our Gordian knot. Because we’ve lived. We’ve loved. We’ve died. We’ve thought. We had one swat. A long shot. It wasn’t for naught.