I AM STILL ME
As I reflect back at the days when smiles were shared, in the storybook idlitry of the quaint angelic New England village where my life bloomed, I realize that I am still me.
Throughout the challenges of self-realization and the committment to my fellow peoples, I have learned far more from them than I have from books and computer searches.
As my youth begins to evade me, the crippling effects of overwork and the disability that plagues my body, I am still me.
I allow the music that ever-so-pleasantly rings through my mind flow into the instrument at hand and transpose into the tears of others I realize that I am still me.
In the subexistent poverty that grips my hungry gird I realize that I am still me. For that pang or joy of spirit, that will that cannot be penetrated. The ineptitude to cradle pain and joy in trust and that others perceive I am still me.
The values and choices I have made and that have made me who I am though valueless in monetary means I possess the mouth that can still mouthe I am still me. Until the time that I can no longer utter a breath I am still the me that loves, lives, gives and extends the open hand. One that can never divide the value of human existence or the right to such existence for I am still me.
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