"I am myself"

I am calm, but my green eyes are wide.

Stars and sparks are my elements-

Creativity is the hinge on my skull.

I hold no reason to fear the rushing waters below,

as I look past the cliff that projects over the waves.

The trepidation still floats sharp above me,

yet I have already tasted the salt in the air.

It has been done, they tell me,

it can be done, they urge,

it will be done, they state,

and I am assured.

From my perspective it has never happened,

from where I stand I am the first.

My father pins my number to my jersey,

aware that my ambitions lie on the starting line.

My fingers are laid on the keys of the piano,

stretched to complete the octave.

I sympathize with the minor chord,

I proudly strike the major.

My legs are a pair of stilts,

they wobble and splinter on the concrete.

They fracture, shorten, and sink in the sand,

but they are still made from the wisest oak.

The clay still rests on my palm,

it bears the indents of my prints.

The ink has not stopped running,

because the page has not been filled.