I am very hungry. I am incomplete,

little as a drop from grand,

unscrewed, released, no more to be marvelous

in solitude, without a hand to hold,

to bear enormous business all alone

and the fear that strikes and strives

when the desert terrifies,

all bright, all bestial, snarling marvelously

to fail, to flourish, to wither, or to win,

and I ride, ride, ride, on to the end.