Lost

In my pursuit to find me, Like a baby, I crawl on all four, Wandering tirelessly out of avid curiosity, Lost in this jungle of thoughts, Who am I? What am I? A writer or a painter? A fighter or a peace maker? What should I do? What should I not do, I wish to grasp my deepest desire, Tightly in my clammy palms, I wish to execute my purpose with vigor, I wish to paint the best picture of me, The fact is, My balance is looking crookedly odd, The fulcrum not well placed, The weights not well measured. I breathe in my odds calmly, An inhale, another inhale, the next, I do not wish to suffocate in this jungle, Give in to the lurking wild beasts, I must find my way out, Before I begin to blend into the green.