I am a fool, but by my presence, I know there are wise people everywhere.
I am selfish, but by my presence, I know that there are generous souls here.
I am deceitful, but by my presence, I confirm the existence of the truthful ones.
I am an ingrate, but by my presence, I am aware of people who appreciate.
I am short tempered, but by my presence, I know there are apostles blessed with patience.
I am a sinner, but rejoice, for there are saints here!
And though I am a miserable beggar, here in the gutter I can still see yonder, spires and domes of the Palace of the King!
What sort of poem title is "How?"?! Especially when it appears to have no correlation whatsoever with the poetry itself? If I could, I would step back in time and face myself with that question. Yet I fear my past self would take one look at me and simply say, "What the heck are you doing here? Go back to the future! Don't try to bugger about with fate. And by the way, what have you been doing to me... you must have put on at least 15lbs. Go to the gym, you hippie!