I Am What I Want To Be

I Am What I Am. I relish in the pure serenity, open air and quite calm of the dark damp shelter of the temperate forest. The hubble and bubble of a secret stream ignites my passions and vehement anticipation as the environment calls upon me to envelope its boundlessness and protect its sprawling wildness in all of its imperfect perfections.

 

I am what I am. I hold fierce love in my heart, for my family, friends and those that know who I am. I remember with fresh throbbing pain those who have passed on, leaving only memories of their resilience, passions and nearly tangible memories. Yet, their lasting impact that their brimming life poured and overflowed, driving and urging me on, and giving cause to fight. I love definitively, I mourn insistently, and I strive fervently.

 

I am what I am. I hold on to my fears stubbornly. But I face them with compassionate affirmation. I am no specimen of perfection, my actions have been marred and scratched and blurred by mistakes, refusals and blunt rejections. These only proved to create a titanium shield of irrepressible motivation and determination.

 

I Am What I Am. I am the Licorice Fern Root, Red Earthworm, Wood Sorrel and the sweet collection of nectar at the base of a Honeysuckle Blossom. My hands are spruce-sap-sticky, with springy wet moss curling into my bare light-treading feet.

 

I Am What I Want To Be. Waxing in the release of dopamine and endorphins, I fling into the elation of running free. I find solace in the comforting and understanding arms of the run, the chase of time, the personal thrill to achieve, and the mental and physical reward of pushing your body and mind to test their limits. Not the best, never the best. Just a personal test.  Measuring up to my expectations, dreams and goals. I love what I love. I want what I want. I am what I am.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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