I am beginning to remember who I am.

I have skills, but they are not who I am.

I have circumstances, but they are not who I am.

I have possessions, a history, relationships, qualifications and work experience but they are not who I am.

I am the quiet moment before dawn, a wind-blown leaf dancing in the air.

I am the slow swirl of the river’s ripple, the slide of shingle shoved by the tide.

I am the glimpsed silver slip of the new moon winking and the bee-blessed hum of a sun soaked afternoon.

I am the flickering flame under a sky of stars.

The half-remembered dream of possibilities.