My job is helping people keep promises.  It is a grueling endeavor, at times even torturous and I never feel fulfilled.  I exist in a world outside the waking realm where inner consciousness and dreams reside; where peoples internal tide pushes them to action or inaction.  I have thought of myself at times like the moon, or a mastermind.  I create the roar of the ocean you hear in a conch shell; in essence I am you, but you are not me.  I am the pulse, the motion, the flow, the hope, the fear, the perseverance.  But I am not G-dly, nor am I human.  And do not get me wrong, I am not proud.  I just do my job.  I help people keep promises.  Promises to catch the 3:54 train at Penn. Station, to pick their child up from daycare, to make a chocolate birthday cake with vanilla icing, to clean the house and do the dishes, to keep a child alive who is dying from cancer, to work on that book, to steal money from a neighbor, to visit a grandmother who sits alone in the nursing home, to find clean water and food, to tell the truth, to never tell anyone, to reconnect, to protect and cherish and love and hate and kill and die.  It goes on and I am there, seeing it through.