Everything I Am Not

Like frail foliage fading on a magnificent mountainside, indulgently parched, am I.

I am a resoundingly blue sky daubed with hopeful clouds - swollen, distended drifters.  I am dry, yet soft. Jagged and withered, strong and tall. Simultaneously wilt and bloom, do I.

I am warm, playful gusty wind, mischievously embraced by the sun.   I am cool, still water – reflectively crisp.  I ebb, flow, gush, ripple and halt.  A whimpering howl, am I.

I am dropped, scattered, seeds making my fateful journey bound for a fresh beginning.  I am the stubborn few clutching to the barren stem.  I am wholly shattered. Harmoniously bold and muted. Enthusiastically jaded, am I.

I am vividly bright, dazzlingly opalescent.  A misconstrued blotch of brown, green, white and blue.  Duplicitous dark shadows shade and distort - neither holding me up nor dragging me down.  Pleasantly pliable, am I.

I am feebly exquisite and honorably scarred. 

Painfully proud, am I.