Who am I?

Well, I suppose,
I am the couple across the street.
I am the way their bodies sway
To the music that only they can hear,
Drumming that starts in their hearts
And ends in their heads
And in precious seconds,
Forces the breath out of their lungs
And starts their feet to moving.

Sometimes
I am the girl next door.
The one with the pink flower
On the pocket of her dress,
That talks to herself,
Because she's the only one with time,

But I am also
The way that her eyes
Twinkle in the setting sun,
Because she knows
That no matter where it's going now,
It will still be there tomorrow.

I am centuries of secrets,
Shouted off the walls of small apartment bedrooms,
And I am the intake of air
That rushes through small lungs in big city subways

I am cartwheels on mountains of sand
And hours spent crying,
Only to stand back up again
I am every single unique snowflake,
In every single unique gust of wind

And every great love,
Big or small,
That ever existed.

But, you say, I'm only a teenager?
You asked me who I was,
And I guess,
I'm God.