The Beast   

Truth is we only do this once.
We make our choices,
Cast our sticks in the dirt
And peer through the fog
At a flickering wall;
We learn to improve our guesses
By screwing up our eyes
And stumbling forward with arms
Outstretched till
The thing we think is
The thing we find
And we know the elephant
By feeling its hide, inch by inch;
Until we are confident 
Its trunk is not its tail,
The tiger by touching its teeth,
By its stale breath the whale;
And though we struggle of course
To essay its size (a kitten
Still scratches and spits) and
The proper magnitude of things,
This is the best we ever get:
The thrill of one chance,
Barely possible, 
Exceptionally brief.