You are an artist
but I am not a masterpiece to be painted.
You are a mathematician
but I am not a problem to be solved.
You are a writer
but I am not a story to be penned.
You are a scientist
but I am not a hypothesis to be proved.
You are a musician
but I am not a song to be played.
I am not a prize to be won.
A code to be cracked.
A text to be translated.
A poem to be recited.
I AM DEFINED.
But I will not define you.

I am a lover.

A lover of the forest.
The calm and green trees
Hiding secrets under their leaves
You'll maybe never know.

I am a lover of the ocean.
The wild and blue waves
With white crowns of foam
Drifting slowly on the sand.


I am a lover of the fields.
The long and golden grains
With the  sun above
Setting, leaving red afterglow.


I am a lover of the meadows.
The soft and mossy soil.
With tiny flowers
Cradling their heads to the evening song of the insects.

I am a lover.

I would refer to sadness as the ocean.
Huge, murky waves crashing
down.
And if sadness was the ocean,
then I am the beach.
Pounded relentlessly.
Walked on by thousands of feet.
There are bits of broken sea glass hiding under my surface.
Poking out once in awhile to reveal my cold insides.
The sand is something people love to flock to,
to confide in.
They whisper secretly to each other when the moon hangs low.
They smile brightly and play in the shallows of sadness.
But they are never fully submerged like I am.
Molecules of water from all over the world float to me, bringing me their tragedies.
I listen to them.
To the mother who lost her son in the war.
To the husband who lost his wife in the airplane.
To the children who have been used lustfully by others.
The whole ocean, is sadness.
And I..
Well I am the beach.