Could someone define for me balance,
Tutor me on transcendence,
And colour me the conceivable.
For I do not know how to position
Myself in the middle of
A sinking ship,
Meanwhile the crest of the wave
Matches the crest of the mast
And I cannot decide
Whether the possibilities are too vast
Or too small,
Too much to exist,
Or too nothing at all.

If life is both as infinite and finite as I say
Is it the staggering entirety of the whole,
How I cannot begin to fathom the expansion?
Or the hole
In this soul of mine
Like a famine.
Low on irrational rations of saddened passions,
Ambitions and dreams killed by assassins,
Yet there is too much lasting to imagine.