I could not stick my head in glue
To feed and wait with barnacles,
Or seek security among
Aggregate anemones,
Or anchor to tomorrow with sedentary polyps,
Or browse with slugs,
Or cling to rocks,
Or maintain the perpetual
Defensiveness of urchins,
Or achieve “being realistic”
With camouflaged bottom dwellers,
Or remain isolated in a shell.

I float on my colors,
Moved by current desires.
Developing backbone
To swim effortlessly
In the ocean of possibility.
 
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