You are baby’s breath,
Burning incense, a rising flame.
You are me, and I have no name..!
You are the might
Of all seven oceans, all together,
All at once:
Salt-water, that drowns some,
But keeps many more alive.
You may not be the rush
In my crazed adrenalin,
Nor the laughter of a drunken night.
You are not possession, the lust thereof.
You are not flesh, the saline taste of it.
Or perfume that scents a lover’s hug.
Nor are you the moisture of skin,
Or reflections in her iris
Witnessed by my naked eye.
I may be you,
Perhaps a relic of your past;
Else, a glimpse of what more you are.
I might have been the valley
As she beholds Nature’s offerings;
Nurtures, unbiased as a Mother,
All travelers that come her way.
I may be vision, I may be a flower.
I may be the time-keeper,
Giving up my dearest hour.
But, I am no baby’s breath,
I am not the Sea.
No able giver of life…
And though, I am a bit of you,
You are all; I’m nothing, and only me!