there are three of me at the least.
one so young that now he forgets.
he began of a light as joy, although
no name was given it.
this was moving light to dim.
most that followed was middleness.
time was given over in search of what
was never missing anyway.
you say to me otherwise
yet it seems to me that just the
other day we were holding hands.
that endured a long long time.
for all the days of love professed
now life says simply… show me.
now is the transition to being me
with no shape whatsoever.
like tongues written on water.
don’t hesitate!
being closer to words surrendering
their clothes. closer to the beginning
than the middle is.
and dim will hand over all meaning
to one bright face.
words will be all poem again
as light will speak. me too.
wordswerepoemsfirst.com 
Okay, I have something I want you to read. You can find it here: https://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2010/06/25/the-call/ In it I explore the three different aspects/elements I believe are necessary for one to be a writer/artist/creative on any level. I wrote it a long time ago, but it still stands up for me. I am using it as the preface for my Poetic Memoir. Your poem, here, reminded me of it, because you speak of the three you are. I did an interview about it at Poets United a while back. Let me know what you think, okay? It isn’t poetry, so much as Mythopoesis, making myth from life experiences. Similar to “Love Loves Difficult Things” which was done to a prompt you created and is the Conclusion of the same memoir. And I really like your poem. “Like tongues written on water” Yes, yes, and yes! And your closing lines are perfect.
Elizabeth
LikeLike