Who are you, that I might find you a wonder?
With metaphors pertaining to this world, beauty can be described in so many ways; that is, if our emotions have not been dulled.
Could you be fire?
With a passion burning so deep, just a touch will turn one into grey cinders.
Perhaps then, could you be water?
The tears that gush from the well of one’s heart, we realise that we’re all drowning in the sea of this despondent murk.
If not those, would you be the air?
Here yet not so, this space that once encapsulated would be the reason why I asphyxiate.
Dig deeper, maybe, to ask if you are the earth?
From dirt and dust, we see life spring forth even as death sends out its tangled roots.
Think big, could you be the sky and its nightly marvels?
You lonely soul, in this fascination you are fragmented, blanks in between a void too large to fill.
So many words, yet I don’t know who you are. I want to.
For if I can find myself awestruck by these surrounding features, what more a creation like you?
Don’t you know?
You are fire and water, the earth and air, the sky and its nightly companion, the moon and the dying comet on which our hopes and dreams ride upon.