Who (a poem)

I stepped onto a new path,
giving up old dreams and past hopes,
knowing where I had been,
and looking to a brighter day.
I had broken up with who I used to be,
said I'm moving on, growing up, I'm free.
But every time I turned around, she was there again.
I kept changing, I kept moving.
Still she haunted me, and I stalked her.
I clung to memories of who I was,
jealousy lingering over what she had.
But she was rash yet fearful,
a child trying to be an adult,
demanding independence yet devotion.
She thought she had it all,
and so was terrified of losing a fraction of it.
When it was ripped from us,
she grew angry and even more fearful,
but I reached up,
reached out for the guiding hand of God.
When she screamed, I cried,
clinging to the faithful Most High.
And as my renewed friendship with God grew stronger,
I sought to fight against that other me.
But it only made a mess.
So I started over,
gave everything up.
And a new me stepped into the light.
I realized that there will always be a new me and an old me.
So I must seek to be better than the last.
Generations racing through a single life,
A fluid soul driving the mind insane,
Moving and changing until the end of days.
Who will I be before I grow old,
when the mind will break down,
unable to even struggle to catch up?
Who will I be when I die?
Who will take my place when the King returns?
What kind of a person will I be when the people rise?
I pray that I will mirror my Savior:
Faithfulness incarnate.
Joy complete.
Naturalized self-control.
Peace perfected.
Patience fulfilled.
Faultless kindness.
Conclusive goodness.
Wise gentleness.
Love ultimate, pure, infinite.
Tomorrow I will be new again.
So I ask of me:
Not who am I,
but who will I be?