Changing Shape
by Brett E. Wilson
I am an earthquake with hands, a cyclone with feet,
A manifestation of clumsy confusion, which has yet to fully reach its end.
The wind controls me yet and I remain at the mercy of gravity.
There is lightning in my heart and mud in my mind,
Yet, sunlight and pure water still find a place in each.
Which do I share and spread more faithfully?
I understand which is needed by the world and myself.
I am an ingrate, corrupt and restless on the inside, often,
Yet, for many, I feel love and, in things bright and beautiful, find fascination.
The spirit of petty disagreement runs seemingly rampant inside of my soul,
Still, laughter and tears can overtake my senses for what I have come to love and respect.
As a field mouse, I have run through the grass,
Like an alley cat, I have wandered through streets.
As a lizard, I huddle into sleep,
Like an autumn leaf by dusk, I have fallen.
Light wakes me and makes me rise.
