I’m becoming an iceberg, one in a million.
Floating aimlessly in a direction I don’t control.
A silent iceberg that cannot tell its place, lost in the infinity of the ocean.
An iceberg that could be on top of the world, or far to the bottom,
awaiting a school of penguins or a pack of polar bears to be able to tell.
But now I’m unaware of my location,
and wondering about my destination.
Only showing a little, but I’m massive underneath the surface.
Maybe if the sun melts through my senseless crystals, a lost treasure is found.
Or a team of explorers discovers a preserved ancient fossil,
a skeleton of an undiscovered dinosaur.
But until that happens, I’m only one in a million,
existing for no purpose,
like how I see others just floating around.
Never came close to any of them,
though I might have made it nearer to some,
yet little has changed due to these few encounters.
I might seem frozen on the outside at first sight,
but I’m hoping someone someday will reach deep inside
and see me for what I am, for what I’m capable of.
At times, I lose parts of myself, for no obvious reason,
chunks splashing into the blue, out of the blue.
I like to think they’re the weaker parts but then other chunks fall,
making me weaker than I thought.
I sigh as I see them disappear before me,
knowing one day I’ll end up like them,
[Linda Cleary’s Creative Writing Course, 2nd Assignment]