I Am Blank

Call of a blank facade waiting for an identity

I am a blank paper.

I am waiting for that drop of ink.

That forceful stroke out of anger

Or that frustrated crumpling.

I am a floating leaf.

I am falling and floating, unsure of where.

No control of my destination

Only wallowing and swaying where the wind goes.

I am a door.

I am close when open, but open when close.

Welcoming to strangers who come knocking

Discerning for the known who come visiting.

I am a fragile vase.

I am valued for beauty but neglected when broken.

Container for flowers that do not appreciate

Savior of the dust once broken without repair.

I am me.

I am you.

Not sure of what or who

Until the discerning eye pegs an identity.