why this me? i asked myself one day.

why this particular – version?

having overheard the conversations of the wind,

read messages, secret – shared only with the stars.

i thought i even understood the singing of the rain…

but what of that?

(to believe there is no other quite like you – how ludicrous – your presumption of status!)

try as i might – i just cannot understand, the tenacity of the sun.

regardless the thickness of the clouds,

the darkness from the storm,

it shines – consistent – unafraid…

truly nothing conceived within this mind, nor yours,

i presume,

could ever comprehend (the ebb and flow of (the tide) life).

enigmatic as light, to dark –

your insatiable attraction to yourself!

and i – hiding behind your mirror – remain all you will never see…

is your anything,

really better,

than the everything of me?