If I could be something else, a magician
a far traveler, wandering poet and guide
a ship's captain, a stately patrician
how much would it change how I feel inside
maybe I've put the chicken before the egg
and it's the feelings inside that do the defining
limited to this narrow circle no chance to renege
and so useless the something else I'm pining
for and perhaps on the matter of feeling
it is paying them heed that's the culprit
slave to emotions and the chances they're stealing
that could see me in the wheelhouse, see me in the pulpit
but other times I think what the whole problem boils
down to is wanting to be this other something
barking up the wrong tree while my dinner spoils
I don't know if that's horrible or comforting
what
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