I am Not an Artist

I am not an artist.

If I were to transfer a self portrait into words,

It would be

A shadow in the dark,

Slinking around every corner,

And devouring the walls,

Desperate for a way out.

Calling out names,

But no one can hear.

A leaf in the wind.

So common,

No one notices it until it’s dried up

On the sidewalk,

Along with the others.

Then it’s swept away, never to be seen

Never given a second thought.

A distant storm.

Meandering its way through time.

A tremendous rage building within the clouds.

Destined to detonate upon everything in its path.

Then shortly forgotten as the sun regains its strength.

So who am I?

I am not an artist.

That’s who I am.