I am not my keeper,
and neither is the world.
My spirit is a wandering vessel,
a sword with no handle.
I am a wildfire.
A suffering world is my fuse.
I am a lone yellow flower,
mimicking that which helps me grow.
I have never been a calm sea,
for I am a storm where no wind blows.
I am an earthquake
and I shall hold my ground,
and stay grounded in me.
I am fierce.
I am proud.
Call me as you may,
still I have no regrets,
for I am fearfully and wonderfully
made this way.