In a dark theatre,
the music swells and
the hair on my arms suddenly
stands at attention.
I’m sure in the past,
this special quirk served a
Serious Purpose.
But now it is just a reminder
of what humanity once was.
Is it for the same reason that
My Love rises with the sun,
but I rise when it’s already
high in the sky?
Is it for the same reason that
some have lofty ambitions?
Those that seek to lasso the sun
right out of the sky.
And the others
that look to be small,
to go from day to day,
not trying to soak up
too much attention.
Neither group is wrong.
But if there are these two types,
Big and Small.
Tell me,
why do I wish to walk
both paths—
under the sun
but holding it?