Who Am I?

Who Am I?

Sitting one day in silent repose,
contemplation at the rise,
she pondered, as she was oft to do,
that which she could not surmise.

A singular question, oh so simple,
yet still the most perplexing question one can ask,
for its query demands in answering,
the truths hidden behind every mask.

Who am I, she wondered,
questioning in reflective uncertainty,
while still a part of her held out hope,
for the advent of an epiphany.

As shadows grew long and moments passed,
deep within the quagmire of this reckoning,
she knew within herself to be true,
that none would come to call in beckoning.

There would be no moments of clarity,
offered up by celestial design,
and this she must accept with sincerity,
for to her it fell, the answers to questions she must find.

In frustration's mighty grip,
she rose up from her place of repose,
and with the simplest of words, "I am me!",
she left the rest to heaven knows.

And in that single statement,
born on anger's back,
came more truth than she realized,
out of the darkness of raven black.

For we are more than what we seem,
even when we see nothing to claim,
for each and every one of us,
is a candle lit with an eternal flame.

Speaking the words said in haste,
simple words of "I am me!",
are themselves in essence,
the beauteous truth of an epiphany.