With capacity to recognize Shortcomings in himself, The shortfall between his life And his art, He drives toward abasement With inflexible morality, Like a river to the sea, Carrying garbage in its wash. Black eddies shock his soul, Tragedies pinch a narrow life, Something soured, embittered, Like late September smog. He groans and shudders and pushes on. The more he submits to the drag Of moral gravitation, Striving to achieve distance, while cleaving to his friends, The more a reactive thrust rises, Sustaining as he seeks to descend. He drives earthward, pulled skyward, A marvel of levitation. Reactive waves, Rebounding, falling, Rebounding.