I am small, held in a single thought, and I am never one thing or another, but constantly becoming.
I breathe in during the day, and I exhale it all at night, wondering if the dreams to come also come and go like the tide.
I have drunk of moonlight, when the pale glow poured into silent ponds, rendering stillness to the waters.
I am huge, of greater matter than the most enormous star, but in the darkness, how like nothing I am.
I leap in my dreams across the airy heights, and I walk upon the feathertop clouds — but even in my dreaming I return to earth.
I have stumbled and fallen, fallen, but I heed not gravity’s advice, and still I reach up toward infinity.
I am a cry, a whisper, a teardrop fallen into dust, and however much I change, this soul of mine keeps in the tune of “me”.