I did not expect this to happen

I have become what I am.
There is now nothing in me that is not what I am.
All my roads lead to me.
I did not expect this to happen.

If I were an oak tree,
My leaves would be children,
Everything I love would be branches,
My enemies would be caterpillars,
My roots would be fastened deep in red clay.
You might then be, say, a bird. Something shining with impossible colors.
I would hold out my branches for you to roost in.
I would grow leaves to shade you.
I would give you my enemies to eat.
My roots would tremble with your singing.

If I were a building, I would have a baroque facade.
My windows would all be clean.
I would have a fountain—
Maybe The Rape of Europa—
And children would drink the water.
My walls would have mosaics, my floors opus Alexandrinum,
On my ceiling, the apotheosis of Marie Antoinette.
Your word for me would be house.

If I were the shore, every bay would have flags
To celebrate the powers of the sea.
My sand would be at your feet,
I would keep your seashells—
Tulips, razor clams, drills, olives, wentletraps—
For children on summer days.
At night your tide would cover me.

As we mingled, I would say:
Thank you, mother moon;
Thank you, father sun;
Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Every road meanders away from the center.
They all, in one way or another, go past your door.
Drive your triumphant car down any of them.
I will welcome you when you arrive.

[O.B. Hardison {1928-1990}, 'King of the World', from The Yellow Shoe Poets]

listen to it (among others by Hardison) here