I am the warm wind
Sent to rustle your hair
I am the quiet murmur
Of a babbling brook
I am a dark and empty room
With the soft glow of a tiny candle at its center
I am the trampled leaf
Lying on the cold ground
I am the subtle knife,
Slipped into an unsuspecting heart
I am the cry of an outcast wolf,
Cold, hollow, and mournful
I am the star in an ashen sky
Glimmering faintly, but rarely noticed
I am the aching memory of a lost loved one
I am all of these things
But don't worry --
I'm still me
