My feelings are like dandelions.
Like ones in the spring
they can be linked
together in a chain
loosely held together
in a moment
tenuously connected.
but they are more like their fall counterparts, seemingly rooted, but blown away by a slight breeze
a field can be covered by hundreds yet they do not define the field
nor does the field define them.
what are my feelings if not definitively me?
like wispy dandelion seeds, soon to be more
but perfect in their imperfect potential
they are ephemeral fragments projected by heart and mind
my feelings are dandelions. i am not a dandelion.
i am a creator of dandelions and of fields and of breezes. of chains and of seeds.
i am the master of my universe.
i am the master of everything and i am the master of nothing.
i am the master of dandelions.