You are not a song.

You don’t walk with the gait of a melody,

your words are not lyrics that serenade the sea.

You are not a poem.

You don’t know the lines to calm the storm,

you can’t find the rhyme to keep the frightened warm.

You are not a story.

You don’t flow like the pensive word,

your chapters don’t convey a message to the wondering world.

You are not a painting.

Your colors don’t dance within the light,

you do not keep the romantics up at odd hours of the night.

You are not a painting or a poem,

you are neither a story nor a song,

but you’ve been wishing to be something that beautiful for so, so very long.

You are person.

Nothing less and nothing more,

You cannot be a god that the Earth will bow before.

You are a human.

And if that’s not enough for you,

you must not see yourself in the same way that I do.