Now it seems I am to live forever
all those dead come to me in dreams.
Insistently they put it to me
that I am not living at all.

Only they can risk everything
after losing time and time again.
Only they will race up a mountain
having learnt only how to fall.

I awake and review my agenda
insinuations still echoing loud.
It's only after long meditation
I learn to hear another voice's call.

Studying the books takes us all this while
but what is emerging feels greater than
the riotous mess we love to create
as impatient infants learning to crawl.

Why now ignore the beauteous words
that go unapprehended by first light
but also why cease the natural song-and-dance
we've managed to hold close since being small.

Thus witty ditty shall become duet
a moments rant a poem for all time.
I'm primed to pounce on a great ending
but nothing stops the rush to the dance hall.