I am the child curled in a box in a cold, damp, alley;

Who believes that the moon still loves her,

That the stars still shimmer only for her enjoyment,

And who sings just because she can.

I am the ghost in the broken mirror;

Who lingers long after the atrocity is over,

That holds a cosmos of bitter memories in his heart,

Following the fading of the pain.

I am the wallflower among the crowd;

Who dances to her own beat and melody,

Dressing strangely in all sorts of vivid hues and patterns,

Wearing the dreams she carries on her sleeve.

I am the small, fragile bud of the crocus;

Who skates along on the little warmth of the sun,

And the little mists of faint fog,

The first to bloom after the long winter.

I am the petite, mute sparrow;

Who silently prays for the gift of song,

But knows that the refrain still plays in his heart,

Until he can unleash it out upon the world.

I am the stable-bound gelding;

Who yearns to feel the earth move under his feet,

Smell the delicious scent of the wind,

And feel the dirt of the nations on his skin.

I am the lover under the guise of a stranger;

Who can still remember the grasp of a hand,

And nonchalantly sips at the coffee across the street,

A wary eye on a lonely, mysterious desire.

I am the glacier off the coast of the caps;

Who cools the raging waters around her,

With both her touch and her core,

And longs for a tepid wind to warm her.

I am the glittering graphite laid to paper;

Who needs not colour to find itself beautiful,

Brilliant flowing fantasies and aspirations,

The artist and the art are one in the same.

I am the moon who follows the Earth;

Who admits to the glorious law of gravity,

Following wherever the hand may lead her,

And knows she is cannot resist it.

I am the glorious shining sun;

Who shines down upon the Earth,

And down upon the moon - whom she loves,

Glowing so that the Earth may also find her beautiful.

I am the child with the net;

Who runs among the rushes,

Catching not fireflies - but stars,

And believes they are only slightly out of reach.

I am the warm blanket on cold nights;

Who always welcomes the lonely, and sick,

With open arms, to comfort and to heal,

And loves the embrace of a friend.

I am the too-curious kitten;

Who strays away from her mother out of curiosity,

Getting in all sorts of messes and troubles,

And remembers that she’s much too young to be alone.

I am the brilliant, radiating rainbow;

Who hides away until after the clouds part,

Only letting her colors fly after the storm is over,

And reaching out for all things beautiful.

I am the light, wispy clouds;

Who allow a baby’s breath to play them across the sky,

Knowing that they have a destination somewhere,

And yearn to see what lies beyond the horizon.

I am the glowing, ravenous fire;

Who started too small, and grew too large,

With reds, oranges, yellows, wafting through out,

And makes no trace of dying out with rain.

I am the safe beam of the lighthouse;

Who stands like a blazing phoenix,

Eliminating the darkness and fears from the harbor,

And guide my cherished ones home.