Identity, a poem by Andrew D. Carson

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Poems by Andrew D. Carson

Identity

Do we choose by will to be ourselves,
Or are we slaves of selection?
Do we grow by choices that prune our fates,
Or as prisoners of election?

I seek that kernel of who I am,
At the stable core of me;
Invariant and timeless, despite some changes,
Constant for all to see.

Were there a list of what I am,
Were there a list of traits-
An honest list both true and firm,
Across most ev'ry state.

You wonder if I'll always be,
You wonder if I'm pat;
When everyone else is wont to change,
So quickly to adapt.

But the fog of life can often obscure
The view of myself and others,
It blurs the visage in the glass,
And certainly it covers.

The nub of the problem may simply be
That for any course I take,
I don't know if I'll remain me,
Or whether I'll wind up fake.