My Motor

When I was young, I took
apart many toys to learn
the workings. The gadgets
of a child explored, to put
back together again, a drive
to know how and why
the wheel spins and speakers beep.
The motors of remote controlled
cars found new use in coming apart,
in concepts coming together,
I never stopped asking and testing
magnets, coils, motors, all foiled
to only know why was the easy
part, giving up was twice as hard.
Moved on to teenage fascination driven
by an image, hooked up Hondas came to pieces.
expensive education of tow truck drivers,
mechanics putting back together
my questions, my riddles. Pieces
of engines became gears in my mind,
turning for why, turning for how. This
classroom of a garage was greasy, I
spent more time reading, tinkering, bleeding
with frustrations and cut knuckles,
the chuckles of family and friends
misunderstanding why I why, to fend
off my own enemies, concepts and theories
never satisfied hunger, thirst, the hole
in my thoughts that was shaped for only one
question. Now, my training in probing, asking,
seeking lends me science to figure me out,
why am I? The taking apart
of thoughts, the pondering
of the self that ponders, I look for the motor
and trace to the Source of Power.