On Too Many Wants

I don’t want to end. The arrogance of thinking this skin, heart, brain, these lungs, eyes, hands and feet Won’t become binding Feckless thought An inescapable limit that presses and chafes Yet A sad lack of wondrous faith with the in and out of being To believe it will become dry, dull, depressing Your curiosity waning To a murmur, then blossom to hatred Your self folding To a mere shadow of gargantuan potential Pathetic. Take the risk Say I Curious fool, Wanting for a thing not earned or deserved A thing wretched and cruel A thing glorious and towering I want it.