Is there a possibility that I have always existed, but not in this form?

My existence is enigmatic. I am millions of different cells that come together like pieces of a puzzle to create one human being.

I originate from my ancestors. I am everything my ancestors once were.

I am their struggle.

I am their hope.

I am their freedom.

I am their love.

Every challenge of every day that my ancestors lived through has resulted in me.

I am the life of my kin that I am unaware of, the life of my kin that I will never be aware of.

I am their success.

I am their loss.

I am their containment.

I am their hatred.

Secrets, promises, wishes lay within the very cells that make up my skin.

The blood that rushes through my veins not only provides for me but provides for those who have no connection to me.

The tissue that makes up my heart beats not for me but for the millions of causes and people and lives that have worked not for me but for a cause greater than me, for a cause greater than themselves.

I hold the love, the rage, the passion, the desires of every single human to exist. In a sense I am just one person. I am just one heart, one body, one mind. I have all the things that make me one human, but I too have all the things that make the Earth more than our world.