“Describe yourself,” she said,
“In just a few words.”
A blank page,
A freshly sharpened pencil,
Awaiting the inspiration from my brain
To create a masterpiece of letters.
A simple question,
Yet the most intricate mystery of the centuries,
For I am an enigma.

Who am I?
I am an eagle soaring high
I am a ship lost at sea
I am a soldier at war
I am a seed in the ground
I am star shining bright
I am a shadow of the night
I am a flag in the wind
I am the hem on a dress
I am a grain of sand
For I am an enigma.

What am I?
My mind is a screaming tornado;
Lost yet powerful.
My brain is the wing of a hummingbird;
A flurry of drama.
My heart is a dainty glass goblet;
Exquisite and fragile.
My head is a whirling top;
Spinning wildly out of control.
My thoughts are the contents of a thrift store;
A myriad of colors, patterns, and materials.
My spirit is a white lace dress;
The essence of naiveté and purity.
My core is a kaleidoscope,
For I am an enigma.

“Describe yourself,” she said,
“In just a few words.”
A blank page,
A freshly sharpened pencil,
Awaiting the inspiration from my brain
To create a masterpiece of letters.
A simple question,
Yet the most intricate mystery of the centuries,
For I am an enigma.