Below is a poem I wrote in the 5th grade. Proof that my younger self sometimes counsels my adult self.
My words flow like a great river
Carrying me to a land not yet discovered.
My words are my oars, the paper being written on is my canoe.
The river will carry many minds in years to come,
But for the river, once a tiny stream only carries me at the time.
What mysterious lands I will visit is only my choice.
My mind is my steering wheel and I have total control.
I can change the world just by revising a paper.
All the mistakes in the world can be edited.
I have no fear and feel quite welcome to feed my soul.
I explore the future communion and think.
What is to become of me? What will I explore?
There is one thing a young artist would say at the time
I am safe in my thoughts.