A Duck's Dilemma

Sometimes I feel like a duck out of water,
The greener grass is the water when I fly
And the water when I am natant.

My feathers equally ambivalent
My brain benevolently beset
The curious quandary belied by the placidity of this
Mirror in which I repose and reflect.

My wondrous will so disposed to inertia
That I am quite averse to aviation
But the mere kinesis of flight
Prods my psyche to that profound euphoria.

And then looms that not-so-ugly duckling
To whom I am devilishly drawn.
What manner of urgency beckons me?
What end do I seek?
Why is this predisposition so prevalent?
Who is that pricks my pique and piques my prick?
When will I no longer feel such, such, such ... love?
And where is that Nirvana?
I feel like the centipede that forgot how to run.

Is there no outcome to this conundrum?
No resolution to this pregnant poser?
Too many options spoil my perspective
And I cannot compute the consequences.
To seek is not to have lost.
To seek is the eternal evidence of Life
As life is evidence of the eternal.