They tell me to be the rain,
Pattering down,
Ensuring the abundance of their crops.

I tell them I am a wildfire,
raging across the land,
destroying all obstacles.

They tell me to be the sun,
Bright, noticeable,
Always there.

I tell them I am the moon,
Dark, mysterious,
Creating no shadows,
To stain the land.

They tell me to be the silence,
Quiet, with no distractions,
Nor disruptions.

I tell them I am the music,
Flowing, entrancing,
and capturing the beat.

They tell me to be a rumor,
Spreading, well known, and obvious.

I tell them I am a secret,
Unique, unknown,,
With lips sealed.

They tell me to be the answer,
The solution to their problems.

I tell them I am the question,
Young, curious, and searching.

They tell me to be them,
So we can stick to each other,
Perfectly.

I tell them I am me,
But that we can still fit together,
Like puzzle pieces.