Outliers

We stole these moments We stole this breath We count the air From birth to death We count the air Until we die But humans cannot Count that high We count forward and back Until the questions fade We all believe Enough and more Than one can diminish Or ignore, our world upended Disbelief willingly suspended. Faith on one side Flesh on the other Choose to begin a new bag I am here to be here, Existence creates its own purpose. I want anything I see To touch it To know it Embrace the internally unfamiliar. I want company for the journey. Letting go is both the hardest question And the linchpin to all the others. What will I let go? In three words: I Don't Know Knowing if I have Everything I want Is an answer I hope Never to have, Knowing will mean That my want has found a limit A wall beyond which My imagination will not climb. The day I have all I want Is the day I cease to imagine more, want more. That's the day, the minute, the nanosecond I begin to die. Even when my flesh is melted minerals Dissolved in the soil, Never let me have wanted so little That it could all be had. On that day, the rotting corpse of my imagination Will say I shall rest and leave the wanting to others. I know who I am By my name, by any of my faces I am That is the important part I am! Asking the identities Of other members of a group Is describing the grapefruit By its peel Not ever shaving the zest Inhaling the citrus tingle Tasting the tart sliding to sweet Bitter and sweet again