Dying Curious

This is me,

trying to save

my curiosity.

Not to grow so bold

that I might know,

and never wonder what could be.


Growing old,

and so often alone,

plays upon our dismal nature.

We don’t see

the wonder that precedes

and possesses us in our favor.


Lost inside

a prison I’ve devised.

Imagining a pleasant stranger,

comes to me,

holding out a key

and I go from my jailer

to my savior.


We’re all inside a dream,

so why would we wait

to do all of these

impossible things?

Do them now.

Raise your voice and shout.

Fly on angel’s wings.

Be everything

you’ve ever wanted.


This is me,

praying for

some clarity.

To see my way

through the day’s melee,

without getting engaged.


I just need

a placed to stay.

Somewhere safe

for my mind to wander.

I’ll create

an escape

from this world,

torn asunder.


Let me dream

before I wake.

Don’t let me die

without imagining;

what we are,

who I am,

what this world is.

This is me,

dying curious.


HG – 2019


Leave a Reply