The One and Only I

Here am I, alone on the hill as the lifeblood of Earth pours around me watching the dark turn on its polychromatic scale to light, with only the wind’s whisper nearby. The bird’s trill sounds in my ear, brushed along from far away, dampened by the light of day. Only me to hear my cry, to see the glossy grass, dew sparkling with newly ‘wakened light. Here am I, as warmth spreads, coming with Earth’s lifeblood, my comfort, my friend. Here I stay - here, with the green and the gloss of the grass and the whisper of wind, my world, a box, my friend, my light. From far away, Sun’s rays, stroke my cheek - and only mine, As I stand isolated as a cloud on a still summer’s day - Forced to stay, whilst I watch the Sun play the day away. My feet are entangled by my fears, my hopes, my angers; my weight: I am the paper, through which Sun passes. Slowly, I imagine if I were this paper; I close my eyes, but only my hair is rustled by my solitude, my wind, my sun. And solitude is me, my soul being on this hill, basked by sun and shadow. Eyes opened, and I’m here - on my hill, just me, my shadow and I as this lifeblood of Earth’s - my sun - peeks at me, the one and only I.