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I am...

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I am
A pool of stagnant water
Which is not yet hazardous to
Drink from, but soon will be

I am
A cloud which drifts along
At the beck and call of
The current, of the wind, of the air molecules around it, of a song

I am
At the command
Of what I see,
I am not what I eat but what I think,

Or
At least
I know that I certainly
Wish to be

I am
A starving artist,
Made unexpectedly rich by
Some illegal affair, with which I never intended to mix

I am
The thinker who is oblivious,
The philosopher who challenges only himself,
The artist with a single color in his palette

I am all of these
And yet so little,
So much more
And yet a skeleton

I rattle and shake along with the wind,
Carried along by the swiftest and slowest currents
I am unexpected, yet so easy to
Predict, I am myself

And at times – too often –
Wish I were, or even just could be,
Someone else,
Something different

I wish to change myself
I wish to cease existing
I wish to be more, to
Be universal, acknowledged,

I wish to be
The umbrella shielding you from the rain
Which drips down at times, creating mold and rot,
While at other times feeding life- letting it, helping it live -

And at times stifling it, I am the rain itself
Which pretends to be the shield
Which has nothing to offer shelter from
I am myself, although

I do wish, at times,
That I was
Someone – anyone –
Anything else.





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