Dancing Around the Nothing (Not entirely sure I'm all here sometimes, but the funny thing is, that doesn't bother me)

Can I be the water,
or even the wind between my fingers?
Would existence be any easier then?
Not that it's terribly uncomfortable, just,
sometimes it doesn't fit me,
or I don't fit it.

Can I be the rain on my nose,
can I be the breeze skipping through the leaves?
Can I be the ground underneath my feet?
Or perhaps nothing but the motion of
my longboard curving from side to side?
Can I be the sound of life whispering
from every atom of every cell of every stone?
Can I be the act of seeing and doing
purposefully in true faith?
Can I be your voice and your eyes and your hands?

It's just that I kinda want to be everything,
but who's to say I'm not already,
or that I haven't already been many times before,
and that's why it's all here inside of me,
responding to the light of everything outside.

And this is all so very soft, but I don't want to be always or only a jagged edge--
because I'm not.


I imagine that someday it'll all make sense,
it'll all come together,
I'll have the ability to really understand and communicate it all,
I'll finally see the overarching plot to, maybe, everything, but now
I look back, and I can see a series of arches, then to there, then to here, there to here
Beginning, middle, end of something eternally.