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Poem

Once I sat under a tree and thought twenty years must have gone by
And the meaning of it all still didn’t come to mind

Sometimes one needs to be alone to feel empty and broken
In order to appreciate the good…

What is good anyway?
What the heck does life have to offer me
That I can’t already get for myself anyway?

Maybe the longer I sit and sulk and the longer I think under this tree
And the longer I drive myself crazy…
I will figure out what life is offering to me.  

I break my back over a job and what do I get?  
I get paid for physical labor just like everybody else

And what do I do with the money?
Bank?
Movies?
Donations?

But what does money buy anyway?  
I work all day to plant the flowers in this garden and what do I get?

All the breath I’m wasting now.  The flowers will bloom again next year
In the same predictable colors as before.

The only thing unpredictable is the fall
When I can be alone again

And new places present new colors to my under-stimulated mind at work.

Waste. Now there’s an idea.  What the heck do we do with our time anyway?  
Is not all gone to waste?  

If I find life is only offering to me what I’ve already given it
Why not give more?

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