I am the woods
with my branches percolating in many directions.
Sometimes broken and bidding adieu to the plunging sun;
sometimes upright and welcoming the white scarred ball; and
sometimes, simply swaying with the
gentle flow of the winds.
I am the waterfall
allowing itself to fall steeply, willingly or unwillingly
only to continue flowing with
aplomb and silence
for every fall doesn't lead
to a failure.
I am the ocean waves
craving to meet the shore
yet always returning back
after feeling its touch only,
for they are too afraid
to let themselves fall in love too fondly.
I am the dark sky
with mysteries scribbled all over it
in encrypted verses.
Sometimes, love blooms under its blanket
while at times, wolves howl the scariest sounds.
I am the moon
carrying the ugly bruises
which not everyone
sees through
for the bruises are too
visibly invisible.
I am the fallen leaf
which gets trodden very often
and lets its rotten parts die
only to take rebirth
in another form,
in another shape, and
in another way of being.
I am the damp mud
of which I am the sculptor
I am the painting
of which I am the artist.
I am the poem
of which I am the poet.