I am still traveling down that road called life.
I am exiting one stage and entering another.
I stand here firmly in the present:
attempting to look forward in the future
and yet afraid to continue my journey.
I look hesitantly into my past
the memories that remain grow hazy
but the experiences become vivid.
If I look in a dictionary and search for my name,
I find no meaning
the entry is blank.
So I take a pen and write
the pen hesitates before meeting the paper.
What defines me?
Do I write my meaning or do others write if for me?
Should I leave it blank and expect it to write itself?
Still, I attempt to write something
but I grow frustrated and dislike the entry I have given myself.
I cross it out.
The blot is ugly and I immediately regret what I have done.
Then I realize why the entry remains blank,
it is because I am still traveling down that road called life.
