Poetry

Shifting Sand

a poem about the way down for those on the way up

Photo by NEOM on Unsplash

I have carried my own water.
I have plotted my own course
Wrapped within my dura mater
there’s an autarkical force.
I don’t need an imprimatur.
All my code is open source.
But a lifter needs a spotter
like a rider needs a horse.

Though I’m not a social creature,
everybody needs a hand.
Sometimes student, sometimes teacher,
changing roles like shifting sand.
Not a bug, it’s just a feature;
nothing works out like we’ve planned.
You could go to meet the reaper.
You could crash instead of land.

If you cultivate some allies
as you prosecute your quest,
even if the boat should capsize,
someone might throw you a vest,
but when self-concern is outsize
as compared to all the rest,
then the world may treat you likewise
when you find yourself hard-pressed.