Who Are You?  Really?

You are the most unique model of its kind, a one-of-kind, lifetime replica of perfection dancing in the wind.

You are truth enlightened, wonder in lands of awe, a placid sea along the fringes of what can be.

Poetry and mystery and lost oracles cannot define you.  “At this stage you cannot confirm or deny anything”… for you are made from the cosmic winds, the stardust of millennium. 

You are the lighted world on the edge of darkness that is gathering into a miraculous sunrise—living out a dream and becoming more than you have yet to begin to imagine.

You are a spiritual being with thrusters full-on in a material world, a harbinger of good will, an ideal growing into middle earth, middle America, middle management gone rogue.

You are exactly what you can conceive yourself to be…with a little twist: A relic, a signpost, a guiding light, a troubadour on the plains of bewilderment—for you have and can and will achieve greatness within.

You will dance until dawn, comingle with higher powers, higher truths, highroads and high tides and perfection that doubles back on itself, like the reincarnation of imagination.

You are a dreamer dreaming the good dream, a slight of hand, magic in the hourglass, a serpent lost in a church, a good guy with a white hat riding the range, everything that can and should be wrapped up in song and poetic nuances, somewhere between cartoons and comic strips, fairytales and fish tales, engendering a species that is jumping over evolution, climbing out of stoic and staunch and stalwart meanderings.

You are of God and love and truth and wonder and contemplation, juxtaposed against the blue skies and cloudless days, where the Chinooks and Irish warm winds push you up a hill…into elation, élan, emoting who humanity was created to be.

You are more than anyone has ever imagined, more than you have ever expected. 

So this day, give yourself a chance, a pat on the back, a definite advantage to soar, to roar, to be audacious, to run away with the race, to embrace all that is fine and refined and alarming and worldly and cosmic…so as to finally live—as if life was and is and always shall be so phantasmagorical, so pluralistically surreal.

And the most you can do is remind yourself constantly that, “Everything is possible.”