Who am I?

I’m the cursed dirt immured among roots,
I’m not the part of tree, neither am I free.

I’m that murky air that precedes a summer rain,
Never the blob of a drop that cuddles exposed skin.

I’m always a mere trace of shadow,
I’m not the light that adorns the day.

I’m that malodorous stink inside prisoner cages,
Never the olfactory divinity from valley’s spice-infused wind.

I’m always an uninvited burden taking space,
I’m not the zero-attributed void that I seek to be.