I Am the Unknown

You could consider me pretty if you are the apathetic type who has to squint to see far distances and shield your eyes when the afternoon sun glints too flauntingly off of the untouched snow.

You could also regard me as intelligent and humorous, as long as you are brave enough to withhold the occasional conversations that taste like bitter coffee and force you to look over your shoulder at night.

On a good day, you will assume that I am more than a walking mass of skin and bones and imperfections; that perhaps I am an entity of imagination, and the kind of art that makes poets want to sing.

On a bad day, you will learn that I am the cool slice of wind on a beautiful starry night which causes you to decide that the sentiment of being in touch with the universe isn’t worth the cold after all.

You will realize that I am a bad-luck charm who’s been passed down by so many different hands that I am stained with strangers’ fingertips who have long since forgotten that I was once theirs.

You will become aware that I am not the peaceful tide groping for the sandy beach, but that I am instead the deep ocean conducting all of its energy to create the storm, and that even I am afraid of the water.

You will see, my dear, that I am not at all what you believe me to to be. I am at times the sun, and later on, the moon. I am the air that you breathe and I am the smoke that cloaks your lungs and suffocates you.

Like all of humanity will never truly know the God who had created this substantial world we call ‘home’, you will never sincerely understand the words on my tongue or the infinite galaxies inside my skull.

Reviews

[Jamestown]

You may be unknown, but one thing I know about you is the fact that you can write, great job, loved it.