Skin of My Soul
A poem
A poem
i am not the colour of my skin
i am the skin of the ocean
black and infinite
and so it is.
i am not the confines of this mortal frame,
the pigment that paints my physical form.
no, i am the vast, unfathomable depths,
the ebony expanse of the boundless sea.
my essence, my true self, is not bounded
by the epidermis that wraps this body.
i am the infinite, the eternal, the unknown,
the mysteries that lie beneath the waves.
black as the night, as the darkness that shrouds,
yet infinite in my capacity, my potential.
for i am more than surface appearances,
more than the limits of what can be seen.
and so it is, this truth i must claim, embrace,
that i am not defined by skin’s surface sheen,
but by the depths of my soul, my spirit, my being,
which stretch out, endless, like the ocean’s reach.
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