The Elusive Essence of Being
It seems all my life I have been waiting,
Hesitating and debating.
A mystery bent on being alone,
Keeping the deepest part of me unknown.
Hiding my Light, afraid of being seen,
Mulling my motives and overanalyzing.
Believing it’s too late and too bold,
To touch my dreams before I grow old.
This is the "I am" and nothing more.
Just endless emptiness within my core.
A paradox of being, is it not, to begin,
By revealing illusions of who I have been.
Alice W. Lee