Remind me of who I am once more
as the dust settles
and another day ignites.
Remind me of the breaking day and the rising sun,
and how everything must pass.
Forgive me of who I am these days,
for I lose myself to my troubled mind;
and there is little of which I am certain
but the passing seconds
and the colours of day.
Save me from the mistakes I make,
for my judgement escaped with my mind.
And the mystery around me is all I can depend upon;
so little on which to rely
and incomparable to all I know
and have seen.
Should I judge who I am on my history
or perhaps the whimsical future of which I dream?
For I know the shaky foundations of my present are anything but certain.
Of that I can be sure.
On days like this I remind myself of who I am;