Disconnected...

They once describe me,

Impervious to change,

Water may hit me,

I cannot still move,

But I know better.

This flowing water, sweeps;

Past me, until;

It takes me along,

Or takes a way,

A part of me.

I might fall apart,

I will fade

I am described,

The most beautiful flower,

Yet they know, I dwell away,

In this brown mud,

In the offal, they create;

When the sunlight bounces off,

The drops of dew,

They deem me beautiful,

Yet will not save me,

I will rot away,

Let me;

For I truly live,

Here,

In the soft earth.

There is a darkness,

It eternally surrounds me;

I am but a speck in its vastness,

They say, I will be one of them,

In time,

My radiance will be lost,

And I will explode;

Unleash,

A consuming blackness.

They have named me,

They say I have an identity,

But do I?

When all is gone;

There is silence,

Then there is thought,

Then there is stillness,

Then there is the essence.

In that essence, I seek recluse,

I know;

It will never change.

But in the rabble;

My identity is theirs,

My thoughts are theirs,

And I am theirs.

I am lost,

In darkness,

In them.

Not myself.