I am a shining statue sitting on the shelf, an
ostentatious mark of the achievement of those
who are not me, but own me. I am not flesh and blood,
but silver and gold and time already told. There
is nothing else to me but pretense and victory- I am
not a collection of emotion, sentiment, love, nor care.
People are not proud of me, but the idea of me.
I am a trophy and a victory, not nurtured and cared for.
I am not a son, brother, relative, nor lover. I will never
be more than the metal that encases me or the
polish that has been applied to me. There will never be,
for as long as I live, anyone more proud of me than me.
But the idea of me, that is something revered and cherished.
That is the shining statue sitting on the shelf.
I am the spirit let loose in the wind.