Poem From Friday

[huxleys_keeper]

Oh, sweet and gentle World,
Ever-present and ever-changing--
How wrapped and Shrunken you've become;
Where once I could dream of touching
Starburst and universe beyond your thinnest atmosphere,
I now am bound to the ground without wings.
The chances of a thousand lifetimes have moved
from my finger's grasp,
The hopes of a million men have fled from
my hollow and indecisive shell of self.
What have I done to seduce Fortune's wheel
in such a way that she would lift me from the womb,
Clean and with possibility
Only to turn and let me drop in altitude of chance and spirits
to a marked and unfulfilled age?
In her possibilities, I saw everything;
In seeking them, I have nothing
and I am left with but singular desire--
More.