When You’re Stupid and Attempt To Define Yourself


Who Am I?


I am.
That is the only truth.
Who am I? What’s my purpose?
Wish that was easy to answer.
But, I won’t leave you disappointed.
Let’s try.

I am.
That every runner.
Who runs for days on trails.
And nights chasing nothing.
Suffers in pain. Dies every day.
But, survives like a champion with no disdain.

I am.
That every meteorologist.
Who often fails to predict rains.
And is still your only hope to save the day.
Who spend weeks on his computer writing codes.
Trying to know where are clouds, winds, sun and spray.

I am.
That every son.
Who is confused in chaos.
Amid priorities of his family and choices.
Of his life that often go overboard killing dreams.
That society has established to feed their blind greed.

I am.
That every storyteller.
Who has a tale to recite.
Of his love, pain, suffering, delight.
But, scared to make a direct confrontation.
Steps on stage, holds a mic and lashes his miseries in broad daylight.

I am.
That every artist.
Who grew up painting dreams.
Then was sent to school to learn they weren’t real.
Lost his brushes under ink and piles of parchments.
To write new dreams full of blood of that child, who was murdered decades ago but was real.

I am.
That every seeker.
Who is searching for his soul.
Exploring wild self in the silence of his gods.
The mountains, the oceans, the woods, the deserts.
Are his home in pure where he meets his darkness, still brighter than religion and your gods.

I am.
That every you.
Who is still reading this.
Despite being thrown overboard with beliefs.
That you were warned by your parents to stay away from.
As it may lead you to abyss.

Come and follow the light.
To recreate and fulfil your dreams.
I may not guide as I chase those of mine.
But, together we will have more light to be free. free. free.


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