to John Keats
For long enough now I have lived in doubt,
Not knowing what this life is all about;
I’m ready to be conquered by conviction,
Regardless if it’s truth or if it’s fiction.
Some things, I am persuaded, can’t be proved
Nor every reasonable doubt removed,
So nothing’s left but taking a blind leap
And hoping that I'll fathom something deep.
A fledgling at the edge of my first nest,
I’ll fling myself out, hoping for the best;
I’ll raise my sails and pray the winds of grace
Will waft me toward some grand and sacred place.
This irritable reaching after fact
Is but a city eager to be sacked.