Being You There are not many constants in this anarchic cosmos, but you have a world in you: an inner core that stays whole, like a beacon balancing on a lawless ocean’s brim. Some day, the mild morning sun of your childhood will shatter, chopped and diced to little bits by a jungling foliage: for life’s jagged edges cast strange and unruly shadows. “This damn world has outgrown me” you will growl under the snap of Father Time’s whip, gazing up at harsh kaleidoscopes conjured from the slippy shards of your tarnished, broken dreams. Who knows what twists you will…