Crossed a bridge you can't follow...

I am too alone in the world, and yet not nearly enough to make every moment holy. I am too tiny, but not little enough just to lie before you like a thing, shrewd and secretive. I want my own will, and I want simply to be with myself, as I go toward action; and in those quiet, sometimes hardly moving times, when something is coming near, I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone. I want to unfold. I don't want to stay folded anywhere, because where I am folded, there I am a lie. And I want my grasp of things to be true before you. I want to describe myself like a painting that I looked at closely for a long time, like a saying that I finally understood, like the pitcher I use every day, like the face of my mother, like a ship that carried me through the wildest storm of all.