This piece of life

Who am I, this piece of life?
This scrap of broken dreams and joy.
This struggling, juggling, swearing, bewaring;
Having-loved-so-hard-it-now-scares-me-to-try.

Who am I, this piece of life?
This shard of a glimmering shattered crown,
This fighting, delighting, tussling, muscling,
Not-giving-in-till-I-get-put-in-the-ground.

Who am I, this piece of life?
This cloud of ephemeral, swirling mist,
This shouting and doubting, moping and hoping,
Wait-what-did-you-say-that-I-almost-missed?

These questions and answers I throw all around,
Are meaningless noises made of nothing but sound.
In moments like these, they are all that I hear,
But then I remember, your calm voice so clear:

"Who you are, you piece of life,
You beautiful bundle of fears, care and doubt
You crazing, amazing, living and giving,
Big-hearted-guy-that-we-all-care-about"