embrace of our sleep—
from beneath
the huge weight
of our dream-engulfed bodies
and the pleasant completeness
of our sense-
deprived weakness—
each morning,
we nevertheless manage
to persist
in our rising up
and striving toward
uncatchable light
like the bright-eyed
optimists
of age-old heroic myth.
That, despite the perfection
of dark's edgeless neglect,
we still willingly
swim back to the surface
and yearn,
still volunteer freely
to hunger
and to thirst;
surely, this speaks to some
unshakable belief.
That day after day,
we still find
that we wake
and edge
toward the bathroom
or the kitchen
with a taste
for the dully corporeal—
for anything
at all, really:
this is our greatest profession
of faith.
