Whitman

Most days, I believe there is something in me greater than myself.  A capacity to love, an inclination towards compassion, an ability to empathize.  Most days, I am confident, secure in the truths I know about my strength, my talents, my worthiness of love.  Most days, I can shake off a bad dream, the kind that wakes me in a sweat, hair sticking to my neck, mouth dry, throat parched as if I've been screaming.  Most days, I know everything is going to be alright, that all will be well, that the dreams I have will come true.
On the other days, I read Whitman.  From "Song of Myself" (section 51):

There is that in me... I do not know what it is... but I know it is in me.
Wrenched and sweaty... calm and cool then my body becomes;
I sleep... I sleep long.
I do not know it... it is without name... it is a word unsaid,
It is not in any dictionary or utterance or symbol.
Something it swings on more than the earth I swing on,
To it the creation is the friend whose embracing awakes me.