I am not my job.
That is just a service I provide.
My job is to be a myth.
To be a shadow leaping from corner to corner.
A gesture towards the correct course of actions.
I do not hide but I am hidden.
Born from mouths that call for answers.
Killed by hands that hold their faith firmly.
I am not my body.
That is just a vehicle stuck in drive.
My body is to be a confined quality.
To be a reminder all is finite.
An anchor stowed into existence.
Though I endure I am not preserved.
Felt by those who only want to feel.
Pushed form they who only serve themselves.
I am not my emotions.
They are just temporal flares of reaction.
My emotions are to be my nexus.
To be a bridge I can bring others across.
An opening of the heart to let in the truth.
Forming inside of a constant battle.
Dissipating once a side is chosen.
I am not my thoughts.
They are merely ruminations on my situation.
My thoughts are to be psalms that inspire peace.
To be tools that carve a beautiful theme.
A weapon to turn on those who rally against life.
Blossoming out of some grand nature.
Imprisoned by anti-social structures.
Hail the centrifugal force.
Binding these things together.
It has no name.
It needs no name.
Hail, hail the mystery!
Alex Chemilowsky's Other Poems
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