finishing my life story, word by word

teach me how to color around a picture of myself.

as selfless i'd like to be, the things that i can do are limited by the things that i'd rather not do. so many times people tell me of how giving, in itself is a gift. only if i could recognize that feeling as being such, and appreciate it without letting myself mistake it for compassion. and even as i try to decide which choices to let befall the finishing of my story, i want to grow a heart. be a witness to something i can't quite understand. draw a world of remembrance, make a list of what i see myself as. i want to learn, without purpose and without a second thought, how to throw away my pride and ask for help. heal those who hate, and stifle jealousy in its most contagious form. contain the image of what promises are. and even as i think about these things, i wonder if it's not just a tune that changes on a whimsical basis. perhaps not. it's been a while since i've seen sunny rain. isn't it about time that we all experience a miracle only describable by the words of God?