You are not the same. 

You are not you. 

You are the water in the tarn 

Still with an uneasy rocking. 

I was taught not to hate. 

I was taught to obey. 

I will obey while the tarn is still 

But when the drought comes trust I will be gone. 

For I am intolerant of the uneasy presence 

But I can walk through rocky canyons. 

So, while the silky water fills my lungs  

I will stay silent. 

But when the raging wave’s part  

And the path is cleared 

I know the way 

But it is not yours.