Never Satisfied

I have seen men carved from stone rising above the Black Hills, I’ve seen ancient trees born back when Ceaser still worked his will, felt a thundering water pound down, and from four Great Lakes drain, I have known the prairie silence that can mess up the brain, I have seen a bright desert sun that’s murder on the eyes, I’ve seen so much in this great land, but am not satisfied. I have lain with Asian beauty, traced touch along her curves, and I have brawled with drunken foes over something absurd, I have toted nephews around perched high upon my head, with good friends I have painted towns, they look better in red, I’ve worked with people whom make sales seem effortless, sublime, learned much from all these folks I know, yet I’m still not satisfied. I’ve bashed-up on the broomball court ’till I can run on ice, skied mountains faster than my car, arced passage on the white, ridden horses ten times my weight and let them know who’s boss, hiked along a thin cliff-edge path, somehow made it across, it seems that almost everything I am willing to try, but victory fades oh-so-quick and I’m not satisfied. I have read classics quiet profound, Montaigne and Adam Smith, earned myself an advanced degree despite profs quite leftist, in dorms I’ve stayed up half the night, argued philosophy, I’ve called out politicians’ crap pretty much constantly, critiqued the deep corrosiveness of media and their lies, I’ve read more books than I can count, I’m still not satisfied. Though more and more I realize this might be a good thing, if people ever were content then they would stop pushing, satisfied with just what they have, their tech, their jobs, their mind, they’d never trek that extra mile, to discover and find, that would just be a slow decay until the day I died, the truth of it, I’m glad to say: I’ll never be satisfied. We’re not meant to be satisfied. …we’d just get bored of it anyway.