The Building Block

I am the collision of past, present and future.

Like atoms of the universe: Perplexing. Frantic. Eclectic.

My being, stained with littered highways, four-leaf clovers and bare shelves,

Lingers in the City of Sisterly Love.

Derivative of the past and denoting my future,

I stand, inevitably reflecting, wishing.

The past, too long ago to recall and too close for comfort,

Abides by no laws.

I am the embodiment of memories and far-gone sentiments:

Hand-me-down clothes,

Broken sofas,

Black and white photographs.

Empty houses.

I am the building block of the future—my future.

Abandon the house.

Build a new one, but still dreams won´t fit inside.

The sky is not the limit, but rather the limit of x squared.

I, like crooked stairs, lead to somewhere exciting—possibly even a rainbow.

I am a boundless expedition of discovery, invention and exploration.

I am me.

I am a mouse with ruby red eyes,

Mesmerized by the city lights—the human fights.

Lost in a world of strangers and friends.

I am the feeling of dancing in the rain,

Unburdened by the damp cloth clinging to my skin.

I am Obscure. Happy. Free.

In theory, I am the “American Dream”

And its greatest enemy.

Loud. Reticent.

Passionate. Indifferent.

Fearful. Prideful.

I am my ancestors, my cultures, my future, myself.