everything except himself

Poor Prometheus!
I, if no one else, know that
The true fire is not a flame but a fountain!

In contrast, our daily lives
Are a sinking boat
On which our fair futures float.
Though, we don’t get very far –
Life is a pond
Where we and the algae dumbly abscond.

Lying on our stomach with the water’s floor,
We claim to see the whole world and more.
To us, it is all darkness at best,
But, Darkness, confess!
Worlds within worlds from you can be wrest!

So I light my torch with that knowledge –
For in dreams and lighter things
We are not to rules bound
But in that free space found
To break or hold laws
For our own unwieldly cause.

See past what is in front of you –
Look into the depths!
Cast out your soul like a bucket,
And draw in what you can.
Drink deeply like the sponge you are!
And maybe you will go so far
As to tell the algae what it is
And tell your surroundings what they are not:
That they are not the whole, but just a part.