Who am I really?


You say,
“But it does exist!
I remember it all too well.
I cannot get over it.
It has shaped and defined me.
My past shines here
In my ever-flowing tears.”

I say,
“Oh really?
The past exists because you remember
That which resides only in your mind?
An illusion from the past
You keep alive as though, once again, it were now?

Be here.
Be now.
Be well.

Lay it down,
This burden you hoard and carry.
Leave it in your illusive past.
Let it dim and die.
Do not dig the bones to see
If decay has set in yet.
Leave them safely in their nonexistent tomb.

Be here.
Be now.
Be well.

Do not tell me why you would
Choose to lug the shackles of your dreary past
As you continue on your way.
It is not needful.
It serves you not at all.”

“But, it defines me.
It tells me who I am.
Who would I be without this past of mine
To identify and carry me?”

“You would be free.”