Who can understand me but I myself
and God; and without God, not even me.
God reveals all yet keeps much to Himself
I struggle to know my identity:
Is it found in my work? I tear it to
pieces, looking for answers; I find none;
revealing only deep fathoms of new
mysteries. Is it in my form? Not one
of my features, even my brown, brown eyes,
seems to satisfy. Is it in my heart?
Ah, but how to search the heart? It denies
such trespass. I am not myself, but part
of a whole I can never understand.
This is the mystery of God and man.