In his poem, A Question of Identity, poet Stephen Spender’s character takes a good hard long look at himself, trying to work out who he was and what he was all about. At one moment he questions whether he nothing but a space on a page “yearning for some asterisks”. We know its a little early in the morning to be getting all metaphysical, philosophical and perhaps a wee bit melodramatic; but there is a point to this, pinky swear.
At the end of the poem, Spender concluded that it was his actions, not solely the people in his life or physical attributes that defined him. He sees himself as a library, holding books with “chapters left unwritten/That blazed with nothing…nothing except him/…Nothing but his great name and his great deeds”
You too are a library of unwritten chapters (for real). Ultimately you are also the sum of your actions, and you are responsible for acting on your dreams. Now if you need a decent space to get those chapters written, and to act on your dreams to sing, dance, BMX WHATEVER, let us know, we’ll hook you up.
There was kinda a point in there….check out Spender’s poem below!
A Question of Identity
Who he was remained an open question
He asked himself , looking at the Others-
The Strangers, roaring down the street.
Explorer, politician, bemedalled
General, professor, any of these
He might have been, but he was none.
Each year accused him of his age,
Also he was a husband and had children,
And fitted to the measure of his desk,
Yet he never felt quite certain
Even of certainties: discerned a gap
(like that between two letters) between statistics,
Though he was always writing those out on forms
And his real self. Sometimes he wondered
Whether he had been born or had died…
Was a space yearning for some asteriks…
Sometimes he had the sensation
of being in a library , and reading a history
And coming to a chapter left unwritten
That blazed with nothing …nothing except him
…Nothing but his great name and great deeds.