Prose: I am

I am…
The mist above the river at dawn.
I am…
The tolling of the bells when the clock strikes twelve.
I am…
The wind whispering through the darkened treetops.
I am…
The pale silver moonlight on the open sea.

I am…
The torrential flood destroying all in its course.
I am…
The raging wildfire heeding not the destruction in its wake.
I am…
The tornado feeding on its own violence.
I am…
The hurricane, no determined course, going where’er the wind blows.

I am…
The silent tears you deign not shed.
I am…
The hate, the pain, the anger inside.
I am…
The emotion not shared.
I am…
The words left unspoken.

I am…
The blade slicing through my veins.
I am…
The blood flowing from my body.
I am…
The scars etched into my skin.
I am…
The pain released through these wounds I bear.

I am…
All that I was, and all that I am, and all that I will e’er be.

I am…
I am…
I am…
I am what I am…