I am but a word on a background.
I am the stone smoldering in the ocean, giving away every part of me that is touched.
I am the open book with the old pitiful spine.
I am the dusty remains of something great.
I am but one nerve-ending, firing off along these lines, catching fire to the page.
I am the knot that holds.
I am the words that let go.
I am the ragged welcome mat of a mediocre cabin.
I am the pine tree that blocks the view.
I am but one and yet around every corner.
I am the serpent that speaks to your apple, whispering you away from the path.
I am the soft breeze that leaves branches wanting.
I am the bird whose song spells LOVE.
I am the problem.
I am the solution.
I am of great division.