Who Am I? Poem by Julia Menasalvas

Who am I?
Maybe I'm the one who pens the tale of my own life
Or maybe life is the one writing mine
And the inkwell, perhaps, is half-drained,
or maybe half-alive

Perhaps I'm a butterfly landing on the wilted bloom
Though I long for the bright and perfumed
Or the storm that chills the winter night
Though I might be spring's warm afternoon

Maybe I'm all the colors turned to gray
And every gray between the black and white
Though my mind is cloaked in black
And my soul still shines in white

Maybe I'm as just as Athena, as wrathful as Hera
As ruthless as Zeus, as tender as Persephone
For if Heaven won't take me for all my sin
And Hell won't claim me for all my grace
I am the very God Moses dared not face
And the frozen fire that burns in Dante's gaze

Who am I?
Maybe I'll find out —
once it no longer matters