My name is my identity:
And when you call, I say ,”That’s me!”
But surely I am more than just- marks on a paper;
A sound in the air?
At work I am what I do ,
My home defines what I love,
Sometimes I’m an idea, sometimes a dream,
Sometimes a raging force, a stream
Of angry words, emotion-fraught–
And when that’s over, calm, reasoned thought.
I can easily talk about myself – my favourite food and drink–
My work, my friends, my well-loved books,
That make me laugh and think;
But the inner core that defines my “Me”-
Remains a deep dark mystery.