As it is I stand on this dot

this aspect of who I am

or maybe who I am not.

Like reflections of someone

you fail to recognize

the image confuses your mind.

I am like my father used to be

maybe my children

will carry a part of me.

Perhaps maybe my grandfather

I have become

even more if look much harder.

Grandchildren who follow a path

that makes you smile

you were there once.

Now it has become

before me that I see

while after me

waits to be.

Like I am the postman

who passes the mail

the link in a chain

from then

till here

till when.

Before It was

then after me

it will be,

for the present

who am I

shall wait and see.