You are the blanket and the warmth
the soft bed and the comforting dreams
You are the dawn forming in the night sky
and the crop farmer tired in a field
You are the desirable, dewy, red rose,
the light forming in a darkened hallway

Yet, you are not the fertilizer for the plants,
the cool breeze on a hot summer day,
or the stable house on a windy hill
And you are most certainly not the deliciously
ripe apples on the Forbidden Tree

It could be possible that you are the malicious bear,
maybe even the evil snake that tempts,
but you are not even near
to being the sacred paradise that is only a dream

A quick glance will tell
that you are neither the cure to any illness
nor the soft grass tickling bare, battered feet

It might come across to you
that I just so happen to be the thirsted, dying flower,
and the decaying banana in the bowl

I also happen to be the chipped blade,
the blood soaked warrior in battle,
and the lone white flag waving through dense air

But do not worry, I am still the loving brother,
the soft, comforting lullaby to a child.
And I am the Shepherd guiding the sheep to safety.

However, you still remain the
blanket and the warmth
and to me,
the soft bed and the comforting dreams