I look and I see:
The past behind me,
The future ahead of me.
The sky is filled with something:
Maybe not with love,
Maybe not with hope,
But maybe with the thought of truth.
Truth of what I am:
A dreamer,
A genius,
Or a failer of what I never became.
I am what comes from me:
And sometimes the sjy is just a board for me to write on in my mind.
-Anna 1/14/97