If the world be ever changing,
Ever rotating on its wobbly axis,
Then I,
As constituent and citizen of the world,
Be ever changing too.

I was born hot, and wet, and loud, the last day of June.
And now I have grown,
And I have grown cold,
Because the hurt of learning
The pain of change, and the disappointment,
Has eaten to oxygen from the flame of joy
I was born holding
In my chest.

Were that I could find ignition within,
Some magic bit of unlockable truth,
rather than casting out my net of questions,
And attending to the ones who bite.