I feel a surge of patriotism enveloping my very essence. A strange feeling indeed!
For I am not from here. I am from an island within the Philippines!
For I am not from here. The cold is news to me!
For I am not from here. Trees grow back every season!
I should not feel any nationalism. But here I am, proud to be in America!

A flag alone shimmering amidst the dark gray.
A flag in the wind shining red and blue and white.
A flag high atop a pole overseeing the green.

The savory American spirit resides in us all.
The spirit inhabits the land that we walk, from the bright grass to the dull concrete,
The spirit exists in the buildings that we climb, from the foundation to the ceiling,
The spirit lives in the sky that we see, from the polluted air to the clouds.

Although it shines bright, as radiant as the sun can ever be,
Not everyone is willing to embrace the spirit inside, which twists and turns, looking for a place to hide.
Not many are born here, most come with their own individual sense of culture,
Many are quick to put their solo identity to the front, people in America are not distinctly American.

But uncovered and true, residing in us all, lies an unwavering spirit that we cannot be identified without,
Our American spirit hangs high like a flag atop a pole,
Shimmering proudly and valiantly, a hidden star shining amidst the mist of many American identities.