i was born to know the true horizon
and funnel the inquisitive air
big-browed and devoted--
i bleed the truest of blood
and present this neolithic thought
with an ageless predicament--
like waves that catch my anchor
tossing and turbulent;
was i formed from a pattern?
as a marked assignment?
or do i belong to an evolution of eyes--
that write our sorrows?
i am clay, moistened by a soul
timely and darling
like a soundless baby
sleeping off the holocaust