I am seaweed.
Continually washed about in the waves,
Continually I am drowned.

I am a mountain.
With all my power and beauty to behold,
Still am I trod underfoot.

I am an aphid.
Tiny and insignificant,
I have the power to destroy.

I am a cloud.
Seeing everything, knowing everything,
I am only a mist.

I am a lead ball.
A heavy, dead weight easily scratched and marred,
When chambered with powder, I can kill.

I am a stream.
Small and dammable,
My source is unstoppable.

I am a wheel.
Around in circles though I go,
I move without friction.

I am a beach.
Filled with myriad tiny pieces,
I am seen only as a whole.

I am a tree in winter.
Barren of leaves and life,
I have the potential for greatness.

I am a biplane.
Though I fly with jets,
My mechanisms are different.

I am a spider.
I can climb on anything, go anywhere,
But everyone tries to destroy me.

I am a mirror.
All stare at their own reflections,
Never seeing the glass.

©Bradley Brashier. All rights reserved.