What I Always Wanted To Be: A Revision

I always wanted to be the gun on the table in the first act.

I always wanted to be the mysterious stranger arriving in an unfamiliar town with a sack full of magic corn.

I always wanted to be the troll who lived under the bridge and the wise old man on the mountain.

I always wanted to be the boy who was raised by wolves.

I always wanted to be the voice in the croaking bog that sings the furthest into the damp morning.

I always wanted to be the voice that calls you back to this world.

I always wanted to be the match that lights the candle.

I always wanted to be the candle that carries the light down into the darkness.

I always wanted to be the old woman who swallowed a fly.

I always wanted to be the fly in the ointment.

I always wanted to be the frosting on the cake and the writing on the wall and the message in the bottle and the goose who laid the golden egg.

I always wanted to be the goat who spoke the plain, hard truth.

I always wanted to be the truth that would set you free.

I always wanted to be the keeper of your secrets and the secret you couldn’t keep.

I always wanted to be the bright ribbon with which your burdens were bound.

I always wanted to be the road to riches or the road to ruin, depending on who was traveling along me.

I always wanted to be the canary in the coal mine and the genie in the lantern and the key that opened the secret door.

I always wanted to be the ‘Yes’ that rose through the murk inside the Magic Eight Ball.

I always wanted to be the wind beneath your wings and the pot that called the kettle black.

I always wanted to be the first record you ever danced to.

I always wanted to be the pen that carried you gamely down the page on a night when you had no words of your own.

What did you always want to be?