Untitled

I stroll upon the foremost page of your mind:
You are wondering how that little girl grew
and why she demands the world. You're dismayed -
you've done everything yet nothing.
Chided, consoled, disciplined, loved - fruitless!
Mold, compress, harness, restrain - desperate!
And why she demands the world.
You don't know it was offered in that first breath
of earthly living air and that
every morning it is a promise renewed -
offered again -
unholy and tainted
the incense of strife and success
and of adulthood and heartbreak
and of death and rebirth
Crisp origamis of lives on display.
People arrayed in all their 3 dimensional pain.
That is offered again - renewed -
tantilizing and unreal
borderless.
You are wondering. You've done everything yet nothing.

Vow:
Not until maturity crushes this tender promise
(complete with aspirations of a child)
will I cease to feel the joy of wanting the world.
Of yearning, desiring, striving, begging, wrecking, deceiving
for the world.
For it was offered in that first breath of living air
I want the world.