This Is What It Is Poem by Dalyn Cornell

It’s the sun, the moon, the burning silver stars
It’s the pain that you learn from, new wounds and old scars
It’s the war that never ends in the blood-spattered field
It’s the slashing of the sword and the protection of the shield

It’s the singing of the bird and the slender, blooming rose
It’s the rushing, roaring river and the place where green grass grows
It’s the darkness of the Underworld, the golden light of Heaven
It’s the trust of best friends and the loyalty of brethren

It’s the fire that rages and burns down all the trees
It’s the water that thunders and ripples in the seas
It’s the earth that rumbles and crushes all beneath it
It’s the air that dances and dodges all who reach it

It’s the scream that rips and tears out of your throat
It’s the storm that kills and sinks every boat
It’s the sob that takes your heart and rips it in two
It’s the shattered shards of glass, the brilliant ray of truth

It’s the soft and gentle feather, the first new bud of spring
It’s the freedom when we dance and the joy when we sing
It’s the ferocity of the warrior and the kindness of the mother
It’s the blows swung and words yelled at the sister and the brother

It’s the glory of the lightning, the power of the thunder
It’s the magic of the sunset, the thrill, the awe, the wonder
It’s the little stone you find, shimmering wet with dew
It’s the actions made to guide and the words spoken true

It’s the broken hearts you go through, the despair and the grief
It’s the dreams behind closed eyes and the goals you set and reach
It’s the agony that burns, drops you to your knees
It’s the times you say you can’t and still get back to your feet

It’s the tears that paint your cheeks and the blood from falling down
It’s the gold and scarlet leaves that scatter ’cross the ground
It’s the icy breath of winter, stinging in your lungs
It’s the times you lose control, the words that rip free of your tongue

It’s the rustle of turned pages, the pictures carved of words
It’s the blue sky far above, streaked with soaring birds
It’s the magic of love, the touch of your twin flame
It’s the quiet anguish of sorrow, the scalding heat of shame

It’s the laughter and the smiles, the hysteria and the feeling
It’s the bells of death that summon, long and low and pealing
It’s the rush of adrenaline exploding in your veins
It’s the dreams you shatter free and the emotions you keep in chains

It’s the people who hold your hand and weather out the dark
It’s the elated screams of children playing at the park
It’s the scent of baking cookies, the taste of a fresh-picked berry
It’s the times when you’re held and the times when you carry

It’s the softness of the rain, running down your face
It’s the pulsing hammer of your heart as you run and you race
It’s the first smile and handshake of a stranger turned your friend
It’s the end that is the beginning and the beginning that is the end

It’s the things you cannot touch and hold that make up our life
It’s the love and the hate, the simplicity and the strife
Without these we are nothing, we’re hardly even alive
And so it is these things we must see, and for them we must strive

For this is what life is made of, tiny pieces fitted together
Appreciate both the solidity of the real and the mystery of the ether
Because life is indefinable and forever like that it will stay
All you can do is embrace it—and live it your own way.