Chasing origins is a game
where rules keep on changing,

where I endure a confused struggle,
and rupture innocence.

Excuses no longer shadow the moment,
knowing joy is in the unexpressed.

I go back to the premise
I long for but misunderstand.

For those at the top hemorrhage is a risk,
at the bottom we are accustomed to handicap.

Let’s farm for once,
build as many exits as we can,

for dreams are bound and blurred.
The finish line is rarely in sight.

At birth we submerge in the first light.