In A Mind; A book of poems

Out Of Reach

I feel myself chasing after something that's just out of my reach.
Once I think I'll grab it, it gets just a bit faster.
My fingertips almost touched it.
My heart is racing as I reach out.
Then I trip.

 
I trip over a pebble.
The air.
A crack.
my own feet.
Something.
 And it's gone.

Then it appears again.
And everything happens, it's an endless cycle.
Am I greedy?
Obsessed?
Too keen?

Because no matter how many times I fall,
how long it's out of reach,
how many people say I'll never get it...

 I still chase.