Shape of the Soul

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Here's to being me, to all the complicated and twisted versions of me. My blood is blue, my hair is black and the weather looks great indoors. Okay maybe my hair isn't blue.
My humour is though, quite a travesty.
Love me.. for who i am ..I don't know.. just.. love me.
Who am I? I don't know, its confusing. Am I the guy who didn't know you yesterday but the same guy who woke up today thinking about you?

Moods change; but hey, so do people and now all I'm really wondering is whether we are all just shapshifters.. I say this while touching my chest.. to mean ..on the inside.
Flexible, fluid, always evolving into something new ..whether we intend it or not is besides the point but we all feel instinctively the danger of remaining the same... at least I do.

Went somewhere deep into the mountains last year. Did some rock climbing, saw a bunch of trees and met this really old dude. This is not the part where I say he was some spiritual guru or anything so please just haul your brain cells 180 degrees back into my direction.

So this old dude lived there with his granddaughter. I don't know whether he lived there because he hated civilisation, pretty damn near nailed the look though. Despite this, I shrug, seen his type..so I'm moving on, rocks aren't gonna climb themselves right?
I stop. My shirt was being pulled back and in that moment I prepare a "you better have a good reason for" look, as I slowly turn my head... downwards... to his granddaughter?

"Who are you?" She asked.
I'm James, right?
"I don't know," she smiled.
"I didn't ask for your name mister, I asked who you were."
"Just a guy, passing through," I say.
"Who are you, really?" She asked and I thought about it for a moment.
"You a forest spirit or something? Did God send you? Does He know I'm here? You can TAKE MY SOUL BUT YOU CAN NEVER take my identity," in the worst Magneto impression you could ever hear.
Then she just looks at me all exasperated like, "God! Middle aged people," and she turned around and left.

The question however, remained. Scaling the past, present and future for the answer. Who I was isn't who I am and who could predict what I could be, what I will be...
I'm certainly not who I am in the moment and neither are you.. we live for who we will become eventually.. we work for the future so the present 'we' can have brighter todays ..we live more in tomorrow than today... so we can stack up better memories, a better life and maybe that's okay if that's what life is all about. So is it?

If my parents asked me who I was instead of what i want to be when I grow up, maybe I would have spent the better part towards discovering that. Maybe.

All I really know is that my blood is blue and my hair is black ..well, even that will change.

So, what is the shape of the soul? What is the colour of its skin? Definitely black. Its gotta be black but would that really matter though..

What is the shape of the soul? If you could mold it, what would it be, why would it be..

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