There are worlds within me.
Worlds I have almost known,
And yet I am filled of them.
I am built of them.
Of their land and their sea,
Of their calm and their storm,
Of their silence.
I am made and unmade.
I am broken,
And I am built of them.
Of their lives and their deaths,
Of their hopes and their fears,
Of their faith.
Worlds that are unending.
I am owned of them.
I am made immortal.
They are eternal,
Yet are shattered and re-grown.
They are obliterated,
And they are born again.
I weep them.
They are my worlds.
And they bear my people,
The people of my heart.
The people of my soul.
But I hate my worlds,
For they are me.
And I love my worlds,
For they are me.
I am built of them.
Of their joy and their sorrow,
Of their longing and their lust,
Of their love.
Of their hate.
I am of them.
I am of them.