Am I the?

I am the moon Illuminating the darkness which paralyzes my trust. At night is when I feel both familiar and yet not at all-- I could disappear. Evaporate. I could Exhale slowly and become a living eclipse. Am I the moon? I am the owl Sighing into the breeze with a long, aged heaviness. Do you know how many lives I’ve lived? I exist beyond illusion. Wait for me on the other side. Tree limbs like train stations. Infinite platforms. Am I the owl? I am the farmhouse Staring into the cul-de-sac with calm, focused intent. Memories of nothing and pictures of no one come very strangely to mind. I miss standing here alone. I miss the apathetic. I used to feel only me. Am I the farmhouse? I am the wooden spoon Stirring the pot filled with ancestor’s palates. An unforgivable connection found deep in salt and simmer, I taste a feeling I cannot find in another. I wonder if I could hold a house together. Am I the wooden spoon?

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