Hircine

do i surf the waves of desire
or am i destined to drown in its depths?
it seems my libido is all ages and none --
mature or naive?

am i bound to the grains of sand in the hourglass
or unfettered by its glass cage?

do i stand on the shoulders of giants
or follow footprints i can never hope to fill --
a child wearing adult's shoes,
aching for more years under her belt?
i must set out on my own, barefoot,
forging my own shoes as i go.
my steps my cross another's or walk along it for a time
but only while we talk to one another.
it seems impossible to teach the dead
but by making your students their students
and interpreting old words with new eyes...