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