Who am I?  This silly question dances around times of meditation, distraction, frustration and hope.

Who was I?  Never asked enough.  For good or bad, she no longer exists to answer.

Who will I become?  The question impossible to answer but too important not to pose.

Filling my head with the Now my ponderings of self keep me out of trouble and triumph.

Caught in the moment, imprisoned perhaps, I move neither forward nor back.