Identity Crisis

[Geoff-Allen]

Identity Crisis

I am a magnetic point of light
I am an insect in a field of snow
I fight to set things right
My thoughts begin to glow

I call myself the ancient warrior
I am a knight in borrowed armour
I crawl upon this icy land
Sparks fly out from my hand

I am shattered and reconstructed
Every pathway seems disconnected
Reality dissolves as I grab it
Like some careless alien bandit

I am a horse with no rider
I am a wizard without a spell
I am a rock without a spider
I am a bucket in the wishing well

I am the gratitude of life
I am a cosmic equation in your mind
I am a man who loves the strife
I am the gold you will never find

I am the last madman on the earth
I am the secret of the night
I am another circumstantial birth
I am the wings providing flight

I am a song without the singer
I am the sound of angels sleeping
I am the ring on every finger
I am a tree in the forest weeping

I am a rope that is twisted and cut
I am a priest alone in a tiny hut
I am a sun without a planet
I am a freely spinning magnet

I am the last dream of the living
I am the only remaining beam of light
I am the constant joy of giving
I am the calm before a furious fight

I am the extra verse of this poem
I am a distant collapsing white star
I am the energy we all own
I am the fly inside the jar

I am completely bored out of my brain
I am buried in an underground pit
I am the discovery of a golden vein
I am drifting in the randomness of it

I am the price of karma in your soul
I am a whisper through the gates of hell
I am a soldier fighting in a muddy hole
I am the society that can buy or sell

I am a tribal mask in the jungle night
I am the fire inside the heart of man
I am a dangerous idea taking flight
I am a golden bird on a spinning fan

I am the echo of a distant time
I am the straw that people never clutch
I am a nursery without a rhyme
I am the boy who protests too much

I am a baker with his dozen loaves
I am a stolen piece of buried treasure
I am a creature that cries like doves
I am the start and end of pleasure

I am a concrete jungle of lost souls
I am a world in chaos and despair
I am split by far too many roles
I am the thick pollution in the air

I am a run-away train on a dead-end track
I am a child screaming in the light of day
I am that dreaded sense of no-way back
I am a magician with no games to play

I am a trumpet with a strange mystic call
I am a river in a dark quiet valley
I am a shadow walking behind the wall
I am a doorway in a forgotten alley

I am the premeditation of the crime
I am a ghost among the living dead
I am lost in the corridors of time
I am the flower that turns your head

I am an amalgamation of expectations
I am the hero and villain of the story
I am a myriad of interpretations
I am the lost and ancient glory

I am a shrine to every twisted view
I am an ever-changing landscape of illusion
I am the oldest idea breaking through
I am the answer to all the confusion

I am your most dear and trusted friend
I am a source of constant amusement
I am the rock on which you can depend
I am the place where all the clues went

I am a candle that burns at both ends
I am a chalk drawing in your mind
I am a gathering of long lost friends
I am a prophet in the land of the blind

I am a cloud of dust on a sandy beach
I am a monkey high up in the tree
I am the dream that’s always out of reach
I am everything on the earth but me

These four wall cannot hide me
With a million words to guide me
Madness never comes too soon
I hold on tight to the internal tune