WHO AM I OUT THERE?
To the child of nine, the future loomed
large as life unlived, scenes through a dark glass,
a treasure chest of the yet not done.
Who am I out there in the misty fog?
How will I mesh into the unseen years?
For inspiration, I look to the skies,
deciphered cloud formations in search of
me: flying ace in the fluffy cabin
of a fighter plane, an attorney in court,
a Catholic priest in the army of Christ.
All these aspirations from which to choose,
all these spokes in the wheel of my future,
each road to trod on the map of my life.
Who am I there in the murk of tomorrow?
Years shape to clarity a man with a pen
with stories to tell, a scribbler of poems,
a writer turning over sinister plots
and humorous tales Grandpa said would make them laugh.
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