Proactive Evolution

I'd be white, weak and blind
 The opposite of oxen
 Feeling for an exit with
 Fingers stiff as branches
 Of a tiny bonsai birch
 Bark falling off in strips
 Leaving nude wood, white
 So bright in raw scar-glow
 Like a fresco angel, except
 Starved and deranged though
 And for an exit, trying
 Through blindness and time
 If I wasn't when I am
 But I'm on
 I'm on fire
 And I'm on
 Right now
 I'd be drying up, nearly bone
 Alone in the lack
 Veins slack as empty hose
 Hand like a crumpled newborn foal
 Stumbling towards a need
 Too undefined to feed—
 The negative of the silhouette
 Of a dock crane backlit at sunset
 Gasping for exit through unknown air
 If I wasn't when I am
 But I'm on
 I'm on fire
 And I'm on
 Right now
 Pull back the vines
 To reveal a detour sign
 Now I'm on
 I'm on fire
 And I'm on
 Right now