Daring the Gods (Revised)

So the world sometimes leaves you wondering
of your place in it, whether you've cause and reason
for breath or only habit.

So you look to the sky, or wherever your gods dwell
and fix a gaze forward and hurl yourself along,
drive sixty in a snow storm, carry timber across a lake
in a fourteen foot boat and three foot swells,
the white caps licking at the gunnel, jump
from a thirty foot cliff into dark waters, crawl
into an empty bear's den and run, face blood drained and corpse pale,
when you realize empty is a mistake.
And when it's done, and you're still there, close
your eyes, let your heart slow, let life slow.

It's not time and there are things to carry.
You're still needed.