You might have come to believe
That you own the world and everything in it,
I will never be a 'thing' you possess.

Your ignorant beliefs
Can never put a price-tag on a soul like mine
That I am raising in consciousness.

Who are you to tell me
That you're more of a human than I am
When the winds fill our lungs alike.

Who are you to decide something so divine,
When your body
Is just as mortal as mine.

And if someday you do succeed
In ripping my heart out as you tear through my chest,
The blood flowing from my body
Will remind you of the holy rivers you've named after me.

The echoes of my childhood, youth, and old-age
Will forever haunt those dim-lit roads and dingy rooms,
Where your touch turned me to ashes.

But you'd still be empty.

Because what you're after
Isn't found in the four walls of the body,
But the resonance of the mind.

And who cares if you forget me,
The mountains never will.
Who cares if your tears won't dampen my grave
The rains always will.

I won't need your dead flowers to decorate my tombstone.
I will be my own blossom in the spring
And my own mourner in autumn.

And I will return.
I will return to this soil knowing,
That no matter what the world tells me
I will always belong
To what I am made of.