I have always tried to maintain a line
between who I am on the outside
and who I am on the inside -
who I am and how most people see me as,
and who I am and how I am when I am
doing what I know I am meant to do…
most of the time, I try to not share too much
about what makes me who I am -
but I always fail, because when I write
I always spill my heart upon whatever page
or screen I am expressing myself upon,
and who I am is always evident within
the words that I use as well how and when I use them…
in daily life, I try not to draw too much attention to myself;
however, when my mask of perception falls -
the one I wear to disguise the face of someone
who sees and hears inspiration
in every interaction that I have with someone -
that is when I am in my element
and accessing every ounce of insight,
instinct, and intuition that I have,
and when I am when and where I need to be
what follows is a fountain ejection
of my creation and poetry.

Most people who see me
do not see me for who I am,
nor for what I can do,
because most people invariably
only see what they want to see
and do not expect to see anything more -
however, when it comes to me,
there is always more to be seen…
most people think they know
everything about people
because they may see them every day -
but time and time again people
have proven just how much
they can surprise others -
in both good ways and in bad ways -
and show sides of them
that rarely get an opportunity to be set free.

I am a poet. I am a writer.
I am an author. I am a storyteller.
But I am also someone who has a job,
I am someone with coworkers,
I am someone with friends,
I am someone with a family,
and though a lot of people know me
not everybody knows everything about me -
which is why when someone
who I know, and who knows me,
finds out something about me
that I know some people know,
but not everybody,
and I am caught off-guard,
I have to switch off whatever
barrier I have in place,
I have open up the curtains
that I use to keep the light within me
from spilling out and shining
constantly upon the world,
and I have to speak in a certain way
so that I can talk about things
that are personal and near and dear to me:
books, stories, inspiration, muses, poetry…
most people are surprised
when they find out about my “secret identity”,
which these days is not so secret…
the first question that most people ask me
is “do you make any money” -
which always makes me laugh
because it always reveals to me
what motivates most people
and just how many people
do not and could not understand
why I am what I am and why I do what I do,
but it’s not their fault.

From the moment that I was inspired
to write my first poem,
I knew that I was awakening something
within me that had always been there
but had been waiting for the right
spark of inspiration to renew it
and instil it with eternal life…
from the moment that I started sharing
my love, my heart, my creativity,
my passion for writing with others,
I knew that I was taking a risk
that someone people might not like,
nor understand, what they read
and what I was attempting to convey -
but I like to think that when I write something
it can read and easily understood by anybody;
however if someone knows me personally
then when they read what I have written
they will be able to recognise me within my words
without having to be asked…
from the moment that I published my first book
and people who didn’t know I was a writer
read what I had written and held
within their hands what I had created,
I had no idea that so many people
would react to the revelation of who
and what I was and what I am so viscerally
and then be able to see me in such a different light…
from the moment that I heard someone describe me
as “The Poet” I definitely knew that I had always been,
and I would always be what I am -
but nobody can ever tell how they are going to react
when someone is finally revealed to be
who they are and who they have always been,
because every time it happens
there are always many reasons
for why people’s true identities are exposed
and why they are ultimately unmasked.