Do not look at me and think of a river.
I will die climbing mountains,
not marching blindly to the sea.

Do not expect me to tell you my secrets.
Like a storm withheld by a leash,
there is no charm like mystery.

Do not compare me to a familiar soul
My intentions were never to emulate,
but to enhance the existing for my brethren

I’d rather be an unbound book
whose pages are out of order,
who makes you think laterally.

I’d rather be the wayward snow.
A raindrop is paired with a goal
and forgets how to move sideways.

I’d rather be
in a different place
in a foreign heart
giving life to new things.
I want to be inspiring.