What will we become?
How close are we to what we could be?
Born small, with little form, amid a forest of folks
who would have us be like them.
Not ever alone
we grow uniquely skyward
always affected by where we begin
and how we are surrounded.
With character unformed
we congeal, split and form anew
holding ourselves together
against an interfering world
We become ourselves
carrying our scars and experiences
like tumors on our skin
not quite hidden, protected and healed.
They are part of our definition.
It is our life
that makes us who we are;
not mere atoms
but people directed before birth.
It is what we choose