Somewhere above the great and stormy sea lies a perfectly ordinary day. All the troubles and dreams that people hide inside do not affect this world, full of fake calm and routine. In all honesty, we are spinning out of our control, we are bottling up ambitions and beliefs. All the things we hide away, too dangerous to be seen will never reach the light of day which we all do view. Because of who we are, we will know so very few, and never as much as we could. How many flames ever reach out and show the world how bright they can shine? Walking and talking with our friends, our own, we can only see a soft-filtered view of an exterior. We must wonder daily, somewhere in the back of our minds, when we speak to any single person "Will I ever know who you truly are?" So few will I ever know. So few will ever know me. We will only know the shell of any single person, all because above that turning, churning tide is a face trying to hide what goes on underneath that calm, cloudy countenance.

Who are you truly? What is underneath all of that armor you put around yourself every day? Who are you inside?

I am a poet, a musician, a dancer, an artist, a scientist, an explorer, a dreamer, a thinker, a planner, and yet a child.

I am