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energy & nuclear | environment

But, Oh! Do I Cry

My heart for the Gulf
But, Oh!...Do I Cry

The technical aspects fascinate
the other character who shares this space
between my ears,
but, oh!...Do I cry!
What comfort in lonely days
do the contrivances give?

Myself, and the other,
lead a life steeped in possibility,
pushing its road deep into the wilderness.
But we are one and alone,
dreadfully aware that probability as failure,
like a pet tiger cub,
seemingly innocent and 'cute'
as it leaps playfully
into the spaces vacated by our footsteps following;
will become eventually full-grown and strong,
not the companion requiring a turn of the head
to entice along,
but with elegant long stride beside us;
to become subject to its tolerance and whim.
We attempt to keep exposure to ourselves.

The tigers are native to possibility,
proliferate in the wilderness, wild.
Some others lead great expeditions
that require multiple others,
the willed and unwilling,
the informed and ignorant,
for company and support.
We come upon their bones and bodies,
lonely and unattended.
And one instance brings to light others:
the estuary of the Niger, Ecuador,
the stained slopes of white mountains,
and debris forsaken upon tundra...
countless secrets approach
as a giant that whispers the lesson
we already know from our poetic and less terminal encounters.

Hardly shamed of the technical fascination,
my inner companion questioned,
"But..Oh! Do I cry!"
Sharing one heart, I knew, but had to ask.

Our tiger admonishes:
Don't create more secrets.
My power now has testament.