Ontological Otter Odyssey

I drift along the water’s flow,
My mind adrift in question’s tow.
Who am I? And why am I here?
What’s my purpose, far or near?

This riverbend, so curve and quick,
Do I shape it? Or shape me, it?
Am I an otter who can think?
Or thoughts of an otter, just ink?

Like Plato’s forms, is there an ideal?
The perfect otter, real not real.
Of which I am but imitation,
Seeking my true form’s vibration?

What makes an otter really otter?
Is it fur and fins and love of water?
If so, then I know who I be.
But what of otter’s ontology?

Beyond the whiskers and the teeth,
Beneath the paddling paws beneath,
What fundamental otterness
Informs my state of beingness?

What essence have I yet to find?
What otterly eludes my mind?
Is there a Platonic ideal,
That will make me finally feel real?

These heady thoughts, they weight and bother,
As I, a single thinking otter,
Go paddling down this winding river,
Hoping one day I can deliver

Answers to questions of my soul,
To fill the missing otter hole,
And know myself, be truly free,
No longer lost ontologically.

Till then I’ll swim and play and slide,
Let questions slip beneath the tide.
Content as just an otter be,
This riverbend is home to me.

Though queries float through my intention,
I’ll enjoy this otterly dimension.
And trust that through life’s winding bends,
Each one of us some wisdom wends.

So for now I will not bother,
With mystics ontological or other.
This otter’s odyssey has only begun,
Adventuring under the sun.