Why are we these restless reculcitrant beings?
Upward reaching sparks
itching to ever fly up and away?
A Gatling gun spitting hot bullets into the yet to be
and yet are as blind as moles about the very next second

What is this strong magnetic pull
that pulls us into a tomorrow we can’t yet see?
What appetizing delicacies
tantalizes us into the future
so that after we have run into walls
or have been run over by the unexpected
or have been kicked down by letdowns
and kicked some more while we were down
do we lift up our hands into nothing
hoping to clutch another arm
or hold onto to something to help us get back up again
and keep moving forward?

Do we even know defeat?