All That I Can't

there are colors i can't see,
and sounds i can't hear,
temperatures i can't feel,
surfaces i can't touch and tear.

there are waters i can't swim,
sanctuaries i am not welcome in,
grasses greener than i've ever seen
that i can't walk barefoot,
there are planets i can't reach,
where mountains float like hot air balloons.

thoughts that i won't ever come to think,
dreams that i can't yet dream,
ways in which i can't make love,
words i can't yet rhyme
for they don't yet exist.

there are truths i can't seek,
and lies i can't sieve,
for some truths lay naked in the grave,
and some lies strut down the street
in stolen outfits.

there are rules i can't disobey,
because there are abstractions i can't see,
only so many directions i can take,
a pencil-drawn ant caught in a flip book scene.

there are flavors i can't taste,
and live long enough to savor,
and flowers i can't smell,
without turning soil
that ushers in their fragnance forever.

there are some deaths i can't die,
some lives i can't live,
this, being human, is oddly limitting,
in many ways, being in a body
of counterfiet desires, jailbroken software,
and janky limbs that do even less
than what my mind can think.

so i am not "all that i can,"
because i can't all that much,
but, perhaps, the most remarkable thing
about me is that i can dream of being
"all that i can't."

i'm not an ant stuck in the ant's ways,
i'm more. i'm an ant aware of the chawk maze.
i'm a character breaking the fourth wall.