With eyes that gazed
At the reachable circumstances
Yet unreachable for I have made them
I lurked
And lurked
Expecting life’s arrival
Until I lurked no more
For the luxury of passing-time
Is one that cannot be salvaged.
Had I learned not to lurk
–But to reach–
At my lovers
Without fear of being repulsed.
At unorthodox opportunities
In order to dissect from my orthodox life.
At adventures
That claimed my wanting.
At journeys that craved wandering
At being a nomad, for a nomad at heart are we all.
At life, merely, when its marrow glared at me in the eye
Screaming at me to clench it.
Had I learned not to lurk
–But to reach—
My grave would have enjoyed
A more loyal description to
my desires. And my soul
would have danced in satisfaction
of a life encompassed by vivacity,
rather than survival