I Love

I love myself, though at times, I ran. For storms they raged and rain kissed man, the leafs they danced, to whispers of thunder, when the falling night held my hand, and I roamed through, there under. I love myself, though at times, I couldn’t stand. With the stones I kicked, I made time stumble. For when I fade into darkness, and the soft skin crumbles, my shadow will stay to breathe. I see myself, though this city it sleeps. For as the sun gently weeps, and the moon creeps up high, the streets will flood behind, if you ever ask them why. I love myself, though at times, I ran. For mountains erupt loud, in the mind made of glass. And although it cracks, it never shatters, and the reason why, it never matters. For the Earth, it came to be in rage, and for all the ink we poured on page, the days they breathe to paint, a song so strange, to all the lovers, to laughter, to change. I love myself, for if in this mind I’m caged, and many times I tried to flee, it is where I am and always be. I soar, free,