Formed of Love and toil or lust and want
Design is sapient, though helpless and weak,
Imitating sounds with a language meek
Of body and soft of mind, nerves taunt
And driven by the curve in constant haunt,
Voice hunger pleas, all functions over peak.
Movement is a driven struggle to seek
The unknown, void to pain nor vaunt
To cease for speech to meld one thought.
Unable by reckless wonder to ever stop
Save some rude waking bring clear truth.
What then? If light be in question caught
We reason with razor will to sever, lop
Off each answer, that, ends our blinded youth!