My Greatest Fear

My greatest fear
is of
becoming finalized.

That I set, and set hard. 

That one day I look around
and say, “close enough” or
“this is the way of things” or
worst of all, “whatever.”

That I fall into contentment
from this tightrope
and settle for it.
As much as I itch
for it now and again, I know
comfort is my enemy.  

A founding American liar
said we were owed 
the pursuit of happiness,

then made us believe
that meant
we were entitled as well to 
its capture.

I’m one who knows better.
Would not know what to do with it
if I caught it
except to let it go and 

start chasing it all over again.

Call me crazy.
I do.
I whisper it
to the night.

That itch,

I think,
makes my sun rise
and set.  I think it keeps me
whirling about
so that sunrise and sunset,
journey’s beginning and end,
are always just ahead of me,

always just out of reach,

always one apparent
stutter step away.