i am to this world

i am to this world


i am to this world

like a burgeoning, unrefined hill

surrounded by halls of stone and salt deposits.

curious, i gaze above,

boulders crashing on my fragile skull;

i groan, i lock my hands together and grit my

teeth, i pray my helmet of ice will fit me well.

i tremble as these joyous beasts tremor,

rumbling soft oaths to one other,

only to be broken by mango lava and browning apples

that sometimes resemble ash.

i flick my tongue like them,

summoning lies from my own hearth—

they part skies and lift water from beneath,

only to be brought upon me as terrifying rain.

i was only just pushed together by the earth,

but i wish to cut away at my rough exterior,

finding sapphire mines that reside,

laying beneath my cobalt soul.


and so, i grew.


i am to this world

like a teabag set aflame.

born from fresh leaves,

i fall into a cup,

wasting away,

smoke rising from my impulsive lungs.

hesitantly, i fold myself into a bunch,

protecting myself from scalding water.

i defend myself from gladiators

with striking spears and slicing swords

amethyst robes tied together

encasing my burnt spirit—

worldly materials are not for me.

it was then,

lost in another dreamless night,

half-asleep, half-awake,

that i met you.


and so, i grew.


i am to this world

like a card is to a deck

with a grand shuffler

who does not shuffle differently by game.

taught to move, changed orderly,

forced to pretend as if

it isn’t the same position every time.

i am distributed to my role

then fall back with my brethren

conversing with slight nudges

encased in a lonely, silent abode

to be used another day.

i am placed neatly, evenly,

into the hands

of an unloved child

in her rage,

she tears me in two.


and so, i grew.


i am to this world

like a seed is to wind as it glides—

always pondering its purpose:

why do i fly?

across mountains, rivers,

pits of dancing magma,

oceans of crying algae.

i rest my tired arms in soil,

and sprout,

my soft bark skin reaching to the heavens,

as if i could touch the stars that keep me company—

i curse this body that

does not let me walk the moonlight.

yet, i find my reason,

as i provide a canopy from

burning reality

to another weary wanderer.


and so, i grew.


i am to this world

like sun is to grass during wintertime.

i rise with presents of marigold and begonia,

stretching my waking arms,

exuding my heat, surrounded by

morning glory and forget-me-not,

then fall past your gaze with hibiscus and allium.

i come from my cape of void,

born from stardust,

to soften frost on green blades,

watching their tears fall deep into earth.

as they weep their final woes,

i return to my darkened chamber,

leaving behind deep onyx hellebore,

littered with glimmering snowdrops,

surrounding a crescent of smiling baby’s breath.

a supernova flashes its final sunrise,

after i’ve fused my life away.

i pass on without regret,

and wake—

my deliberating rest ends—

i whisper my last words,

and return to my Creator.


and so, i grew.


i am to this world

like you are to me:

everlasting and eternal.