The trouble is when we break free
through having rambled philosophic
to leave the ground and float in space
and chart new points of reference
when we return life may seem crazy
our new perspective’s too exotic.
Ejected from womb’s warm dark pleasure
to nature’s bright and painful cold
we shrilly scream our discontent.
And thus begins our first life’s lesson—
in order stasis to preserve
adapt at once the new with old.
“Fear of Flying”
We speak through our persona daily
We panic when we cannot find it
We count on foreground consciousness
As evidence that we exist
As beings of defined degree
Our boundlessness we won’t admit