The Most Vulnerable Being, An I

I am none, or I am many I am a sound of letters in the mailbox I am a wishful dream that heaven was ensured Yesterday. I am a drop of salty tear without a scope to survive I am a cover page of a journal, where I kill the beast And as a scapegoat, justify the gruesome killing again, and again I am a hope, yet to know how to spell or pronounce it in a worldly manner I am an hour of tranquility, In a busy world with a definition of pulchritude in mind, Defined only for me. I am a childish yearning, a naivety That kisses a wiser, enduring ground. The most vulnerable being, an I Before dying for that heavenly sound.