I think it's the chase,
the pursuit.
I think it's the heart,
pounding away.
I think it's the breath,
harder and faster.
It's the crack of a branch,
the scraping of stone,
the whipping of leaves,
the splash in a stream.
It's the scent,
it's the taste.
I think it's the panic,
the fear in the eyes,
the knowledge
of impending demise.
Watching the lights go dim.
It's not that.
It's the chase then,
not the kill,
that brings joy to my mind.
It's knowing there's something
left to be chased,
relentlessly,
unwaveringly,
fanaticly even.
I think it's the soul
running free.
-mine once more
they question is, once we have obtained what we have been chasing-- "the kill"-- are we satisfied?
ReplyDeletethis poem brings up something I've been pondering:
why are we trying to convince everything in our world when we were made to work, to discover,to problem solve, to think-- to chase.
thank you Corey for telling us what "it is" that makes life exciting.
It is in doing that we obtain the most satisfaction of a task, not the possession at the end.
filtering this through the lens of our lovely colloquium from last semester:
ReplyDeletehow much power does one need in order to be free (or rather, what kind)?
i only ask because i wonder if a soul can be free if it's tangled up in chasing something or if the thing being chased is actually what's in charge.
What was your colloquium Lauren? Trans-con? And that last question, good madam, depends entirely on what the soul chases.
ReplyDelete