Oft I wonder,
of who am I? What is it that defines I?
Am I a poet?
I weave pretty words in verse verily from the heart,
And I pour pieces of myself in sonnet and soliloquy,
To add to this new world some beauty and wonder?
I know I can't stay bound and follow iambic pentameter
Am I a visionary perhaps?
Leading my band of misfits to create magical solutions
A world filled with creativity and design, shaping the future,
for the self, an empire of mavericks set out to do good,
I know I am not, I could care less about building empires.
Ah, I am a Designer & Photographer...right?
Seeing the soul of nature and interpreting it in art,
As I stare the nuances of this world, peek at its secrets,
giving them form through art or photos for the world to see.
I know this is false too. These are hobbies, not identities.
What am I?
A son?A husband?A father?
A boss?A leader?A director?
A lover?A giver?A listener?
A romantic?A cynic?A pessimist?
What am I?
I keep asking over and over...and suddenly it hits me,
Why do I seek to be defined?
What am I? Does it matter?
Shouldn't I just be content knowing "I am”?
Brief Biography: Harshal makes rhetoric within the space points of identity through verse. He looks at the world without a specific lens but wisdom for him is deeply rooted in comics, stars, anthropomorphism and over margins, among multitudes. A seeker, he philosophizes existence only to erase meaning and create paths to newer ways of looking. You can contact him on firstname.lastname@example.org