I have been called many things, done many things. Some I have regretted and some that I have treasured. I am a man, not worthy of any special praise, but that I do get glorifies the one who made me, for what is man? He is a breath; a quiet whisper who's beauty fades away and life returns to the source from which it flows.
Who am I? No-one, for I can be gone in a split second. Never to be remembered, a picture of what once was and now is not and will never be again.
The life I live in this tent; this temporary dwelling place I do with faith in the Son of God. Apart from him I am nothing, I know nothing, nothing.
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