Identity

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I wonder who I am, and who you are...
you're not the image you see in the mirror, or the image people have of you.
you're not your irrational fears, or what makes you secure like a baby in a cradle.
you're not a constellation of thoughts and ideas.
you're not your deeds, good or bad.
you're not your childish dreams or your wildest ambitions.
you're not just flesh with consciousness and a beating heart.
you're not the people who hurt you, or the people you hurt.
you're not your failures or the times you messed up, you're not the nights you slept crying, or the times you hid weeping.
you're not just your brilliant smile or your clever remarks.
you're not your intellectualism or brains.
you are all of those and more.
you are a universe on its own.
your own kind of human.
a million galaxies, limitless skies, and infinite seas.
you're beauty and ugliness.
you're the monsters you keep within you, the kid that never grew old, and the confused teenager.
sometimes I look at the stars and I wonder, I think that's you.
that's us, that's humanity, stripped.
This is our truth, we are painted with stars and consumed by the cosmos, only to come back again brighter than before.
your heart is the sun and your soul is the emptiness that's filling the space
and I wonder if you can be contained. 

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