who are you

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for,
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love,
for your dreams,
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what you've done.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your sorrow...
if you've been opened by life's betrayals or have
become sealed from fear of further pain.

It doesn't interest me where you've been.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine and your own
without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it,
and if you can weep all of your tears.

It doesn't interest me what has happened in your past.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine and your own...
if you can laugh all of your laughter, dance like no one is watching
and love like you've never been hurt.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself...
if you can bear the accusation of betrayal...
and not betray your own soul.