Don't call yourself a river
- it evaporates leaving a stony riverbed fish skeletons behind
Don't call yourself a rock
- it is worn away with time into fragments, smoothed planes
Don't call yourself the sun
- get too close and burn
Don't deem yourself the night sky full of stars
- they are ancient echoes vibrating with radiation
Comparing yourself with pens, knives
- mere inanimate tools; their meaning only lies in their use

Call yourself human
Feel the imperfection settle into your bones
and own your identity
Looking for faint romantic descriptions in
non-living objects
is irony
don't you see?
This body of yours will decay
Bit by bit every part will fail you
Feel the blood in your veins, wearing away your vessels
Growing stronger, then weaker
You were meant to be embraced from the day you were born,
child of nature
You are the present, the now
Just as ephemeral
You are human- breathing in and out
Your purpose is always clouded