Jack Frost

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I throw my hands in the air
I break free
Flying high across the uncharted
Seeing the unseen
Writing the unwritten.
Oh what joy, oh what wonder.
The yet unspoken coming alive before my very eyes!
My center taking shape, I see me.


Jack!
What is your center?
Why is it scary to be a guardian?
I never knew it would be this much of a struggle
A war between my emotions and I.
I suddenly try to speak objectively when all of me is subjective.
I am a mess not knowing how to act when shown a little affection
the exact replica of the finger I point at you.
I am just a mirror of you.
A mangled mess, beneath the shiny dross.
Conspicuous and attractive, yet hollow.
Is it about being seen, heard or approved?


I am that Jack Frost
Whom I have referenced but never seen.
It is me, coming out of my skin
Blossoming into this version of me
It is no longer my version of events.
It is me, finding my center.
It no longer matters that no one sees.
You sent me. You see. You validate.
No man. No woman, No thing.
Just you. Just me.
Our version of events.


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