My Cousin

From lower perspectives I look
The table before me higher than any I could reach
I stretch, fumble, and fall
Never hurt, but always wanting.
They look down,
Mouths upturned
In recognition, devotion, love.
For what?
I fumble for the chance to rise to their level
I am beneath them in a world built for their kind
And while I wait, I speculate
I dream of tomorrows,
When understanding shall reign in my mind
When my brow shall not crinkle
In vain devotion to discovery
Though discovery is quite unattainable
I can not grasp
Yet clamp my hands upon empty air
And I drag with me the future
A bright new day
Filled, with hope.