My Salad Days Are Numbered.

Unbearable restlessness
goading my contentment
corroding the unconscious resistance of my
stick-in-the-mud self

Unquenchable, unbreakable
this endless gaping inner space
gnaws at my heart
empty even as I fill it

Impermanence taunts me
parading infinity before me
but denying me more
than a passing glance

The soul yearns for infinity
yearns to become infinity
yearns to encompass infinity
in this finite life

My salad days are numbered.