If one has needs, wants, and hopes,
How does one distinguish between them all?
Is hunger an equal urge to the desire for acceptance?
I am a physical being and my body has a chemistry in place
That I don't even understand.
I must be kept warm enough but not too warm,
I must be kept fed, hydrated,
Watered like a plant with no leaves.
I must keep my body in practice, be the master of my muscles.
As purely as I am physical,
There are things about me that are intangible,
A double heart, both beating and yearning.
What is sadness made of?
How do you clean it up?
Where is the hole gouged by loneliness?
There is some sort of equation going on here,
I'm certain of it.
Wooden pieces painfully nailed together
To build something
For some sort of purpose.
I am a tree. And I am the wind.
I am the place where you find the rustling.
