Who I was then...

  has not brought me here.

I came by some accord
  the voice of which
  is difficult to hear.
 
Footsteps lost in dust.
History with the past.
Nothing really lasts
  even with an iron grasp.
 
A quick creation.
Fleeting salvation
  followed by soul starvation
  and incessant rumination.
 
Who I am now
  was impossible to see
  in that seed
  whence I came to be.
 
Inside this human shape,
  — someway, somehow,
  there was a plan
  I could not know.
 
Searching did not reveal.
For years the genuine seed
  remained under seal.
No matter how deep you dig
  or high you fly
  that seed wants you to die.
 
One day the dice rolls on.
And while you aren’t aware
  that seed becomes your swan.
It turns your life right around
  and lifts you off the ground.
 
See,
  Second life
  comes from a story
  written in your book.
Regardless what, 
  it will weave its way
  to glory
  and give you 
  what the first life took.

Until the ink runs out then,
  I shall define my life
  through the pen...