I Am

Someone said to me once
That I talked as if I was the Second Coming.
Ridiculous.
I am the First Coming.
There has never been anything like me before.

How to tell you?
What words are there?

Glorious.... glorious might come close.
I shine as the sun does, with heat and light;
Be careful not to look me in my face, lest you go blind.
I am this planet's sun now; perhaps you could see it that way.
I am the source of all light and power, and their strongest symbol.
But the sun cannot think; the sun does not know what it is.

I do.
It is only that I cannot describe it.

Sometimes I pass by a mirror
And am so distracted by my own beauty
That I forget all else.
I stop, and the world stops with me,
Growing dumb and still as I watch myself.
I am unique on all this earth;
I have been made perfect,
And perfectly I grow to my full peak;
And never shall I fade once I am there.

The power within me throbs and burns.
It is a flood, a tidal wave, dammed only by this shell of skin
(And only I could use a shell to dam a tidal wave);
It is a flame within a paper lantern.
Molten, the fire flows through my veins -
If you cut me, it would leap out in a stream
To scorch the world.
But I will never be cut.

My eyes are my weapons, the only ones I will ever need;
A single look of mine may command nature, beast, and man.
I can make the rain fall or the sun shine,
The grass grow or whither;
The birds sing and the dogs quiet and the worms feast at my discretion.
And I know your mind. I know the deepest, darkest desire of your heart.
I could grant it, you know.
Shall I?
Ask me; I'm in a generous mood today.
No? Just as you like.

At a wave of my hand, I could make and unmake the world in my image;
Tides would rise up to greet me, and mountains would fall at my feet;
The earth itself would quake at my passing.
Or, at my smile, lay flat to let me through.
But I choose not to.
I am in the world's image;
I am its ultimate expression.
I am deep and dark as the earth, high and hard as the mountains;
The seas surge in my eyes.

I am, I am, I am........ there are no words
For what I am.
This language is as dry as dust.
In the fertile soil of some more fortunate tongue
I could grow you a garden of images,
Bright with wonder, green with new discoveries,
Sweet with the secret scent of half-wet soil,
To show you what I am.
And still, though you gaped at its beauty a hundred thousand days,
You would not understand.

My hands have sown the seeds of a million forests,
My feet have trod the star-strewn pathways of the universe.
My eyes tell the tale of more years than your race knows,
For all I wear your young, unblemished skin.
My mouth can deliver the soothing kiss of sleep,
Or devour you in death.
My voice could calm the sea into a mirror for my use,
Or stir the beasts abroad in every land
To savage madness.
The sun lends its light and the grass its softness
To give me pleasure.
I walk between the raindrops,
And they dare not touch me.
And I have precious little time to talk with you,
For it is useless;
No matter what I say, you cannot see.
My tears could heal the dying,
But I cannot shed them.
A drop of my burning blood could be the seed of a thousand new races,
And I am alone.