What I am

I am not this earthen vessel,
nor am I the wind that blows.
I am the harmonic tone
resonating in its hole.

I am not the smooth grey stone,
nor am I the water drop.
I am the splashing flower that blooms
at the water’s sudden stop.

I am not the dry brown branch,
nor am I the troubled skies.
I am the flash of lightning bright
and the smoke curl you see rise.

I am not the big damp cloud,
nor am I the sunlit blue.
I am the face that you espy,
whose puffy grin peers back at you.

I am not this lump of meat,
nor am I just memories.
I am the dance of life it plays;
I am the music this voice sings.

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