You...

...are a tempest
striking where the winds
from butterfly wings
direct you

You
are the white light
a million miles an hour
of all the colours
in my eye

You
are precise
tick-tock, algebraic
poised and ready
at the wheel

You
are evolving
continuously processing
integrating, analyzing
an ever-changing algorithm,

You
are steady
your delving roots firm
like the sermon
of a zealous priest

You
are
the sky
when you hold your arms wide
and close your eyes

You
are shaped
by eyes that you wish
did not

You
are fair
when the wind
plays with your hair

You
are stark
when your eyebrows twitch
and your jaw sets

You
are mild
when you turn your face
from the rays of dawn


You exist not as an entity.
You exist as a transition.