Whosoever puts themselves to task,
In pursuit of whatever consumes them–
Not after scraps,
But doggedly after their true quarry,
Like a greyhound set on course,
Will discover in themselves,
The strange alchemy of effort:
As if the burning itself,
Generates its own fuel—
So they’ll understand:
That consumption begets creation–
And the soul, in spending itself,
Grows inexplicably fuller,
Therein lies what the alchemists missed,
One’s raison d’être,
Is found not in having,
But in reaching,
Not in catching,
But in total commitment,
To that magnificent chase,
Whose beginning outshines its end–
C’est vrai que l’appétit vient en mangeant;
Alors, commence.