I struggle for no reason,
none that you can see.
Is this the only measure
of a mind against itself?
What do I really seek
beyond the goal of fleeing pain?
Where am I comfortable
and what will lead me there?
Treasures piled high collect the dust,
testaments to false interests then pursued.
No trophies are found at the end
of mad fool's quest for the gold.
To find like people spurs my soul
to heights unfound in the rest of life.
Their company is muted by
the temporary nature of this contact.
Artistic efforts evoke my passion,
displaying the breadth of my loves.
The many drops fall from my sky,
how many reach the ones beyond?
These are answers hollow when
the bigger question is dissatisfied
by glitter of distractions found
instead of the answers there.
I struggle because there is more
to what I could do and explore.
Until I shift from these baubles
I'll always suffer in my mind.
© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160514.