I Am

By JustAnEarlyBird

A leaf carried by a breeze
I have little to my name

Withered and worn,
I've seen my share of change--
A season's change;
Not much

I'm green;
but its only the reflection--
the truth is more profound
Than what can be seen
In a shallow puddle.

And I--
I am an ocean

Buried in the layers
Of my soft flesh--
in the depth
Of my existence,
A vastness, unseen.

As I'm dragged along,
I take it all,
The violent words
Whispered against my flesh by
angry winds and crashing waves--
The desire of the flames, exploding in ecstacy;
A forest succumbing in shame.

The pain, the loss, the value
Of the world.
I hear it
And I speak of it--
Not at all.

Not of the sorrow of
A ragged root caught around the ankle
Of innocence--
Or of a branch
Torn from the elder tree's body;
The agony of Wisdom's desecration

Like the Library of Alexandria;
All the knowledge of a nation

I hear the prayers of desperate men
And I hear the curses of madmen

And because I am everything
And nothing
All at once
I hear, I feel, I see

I stand somewhere between
the bearer and the destroyer;
And I watch
As war is waged.

Green, am I.
But, Oh, the things I've seen

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2020 JustAnEarlyBird
Published on Monday, July 27, 2020.     Filed under: "Poetry"
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Comments on "I Am"

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  • Phalanx On Tuesday, July 28, 2020, Phalanx (732)By person wrote:

    I'm good with the steadfast. Good with the fucking and the Where we find each other.

  • Alanarchy On Monday, July 27, 2020, Alanarchy (1194)By person wrote:

    I have lived as a dandelion seed. I've been picked up by a force I couldn't control, and placed down where I wasn't wanted. Where I didn't want to be. I fought the wind. Sometimes I still do. I lose less often now. I've withered a bit with... Wisdom? We'll call it that- I don't feel green. But I feel my roots. Color is a trick of the light... I tend to interpret in a selfish way. There's a lot here. Many doors. More like the spaces between trees in the woods. Write on.

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