I have never known that sweet rush of risk,
of doing the unknown without a care,
of wandering into the taboo, of screaming for
hours untold, of dancing throughout the storm.

My world condensed into stages
plottable and carved in stone
with no sidetracks or diversions
nor adventures or discoveries.
Goals that seem so constrictive
and airtight, no holes to break
free from the frigid trap of
expectations, reality so close
only to shrivel within the shreds
of my mind.

I long for unplanned tales of riotous
passion, for startling moments of joy,
for unbridled abandon in the moonlight.
I seek the moments of wildness, of freedom
from normality, of untamed winds rushing through
my hands reaching towards infinity.

Now old and weary with only wishful thoughts
of should haves, could haves, I cry.
What is life with no risks, no chance, no
spontaneity? Trophies, recognitions, awards
collecting dust in boxes upstairs record this life.
I die.