What did I come here for?
I just can’t get enough I suppose.
So swaddling clothes again I dorn,
And strike out for the farther shore.
What did I come here for?
I’ve lost the list of items to procure––
Of experiences I must not go without––
Of hoops and loops to turn to when in doubt.
So I must set a gentle pace––
Lest I disturb my course.
And trust unto my sleeping form,
Until I do awaken.
What should I go without?
And what should I pursue for sure?
And what are you––what’s the place you hold?
When you cannot be forgotten?
And what does tomorrow hold?
If I can’t quite see through your front––
Well maybe it’s all me,
Too tangled up in mine to see.
And If we drift apart,
And God forbid, we lose the will to see––
Remember that it’s still me,
Though I might seem a distant ugly thing.
And set a certain trap––
That you might win me back!
And though we are imperfect things,
May nothing be forgotten.
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