How long do I chase the end of this poem
Before I am curtailed by
Necessity. Another sort of hunger.
The feeding of the body,
The quenching of the marrow,
Red blood cells thirsty for oxygen,
Neurons feisty for a meeting of the minds.
Intelligence, but not by design.
For I am born to wonder,
To adapt to harrowing circumstances,
To map out absences on the page.
To scrap with a narrowing god.
So meet with me, engage in me,
Demand of me my uncertainty.
For I am born to embrace.
I am born to chase endings.
For I am born wondering.
And I am born hungry.