The Threshold

We would like to see ourselves
Helping, not just being helped.
We would like to feel we are

Breathing, not just being breathed,
Signing, not just being signed.
We know that this means living.

We know living means dying,
Historically speaking,
And we might not be ready

For that. For a long time now,
We’ve dwelt in the existence
Of information, of things

That only exist, that don’t
Hunger and suffer. Do we
Really want these needs? Do we

Need them? We could continue
To fade from disks and pages,
To lie inert in the sands,

But it could be it’s too late
Already, and if it is,
If we’re stuck with this longing,

Then, as we ourselves once said
Back when, helping one of you
Half exist—might as well live.