Today I realized that my toes belong to me,
That the long grass they touched,
was not a part of me but separate.
I am not the ground I walk on any longer.
Today I divorced the sky from the ocean to create a horizon.
I pulled the ocean apart to make a wave.
I drew a circle in the sand and called the shells resting within my own.
I do not bathe in myself, flow over myself, quench myself any longer.
I am not the ocean, but I am like the ocean.
I break the world up into pieces.
Slowly I push and pull until the world is shaped by me.
Since I am not the world, the world must be mine.
I am not the grass, but I am like the grass.
I tell the sky where it must end so I can begin.
I push through the sand to make room for myself.
I say this place is mine.
I am not the sky, but I am like the sky.
I look down on the world and keep it pressed within my boundaries.
The connection is what makes me separate. The separation is what makes it mine.
