The only revelations I ever receive are
Of how to:
Read relatives’ fortunes in rice pudding
Or
How rats rotate in zero gravity.
With the risk of being ridiculed,
I admit that I only
Feel
That I have a role in this world
When I’m running.
Which I realize is ridiculous.
I’m not like Richard the third
Who ripped his way through all his rivals and even
Relished
The road to the throne.
Not that I’m ravenous to rupture any organs, but
I need a goal to relinquish this thirst.
I cannot rest
Until I have some sort of quest
Or rebellion
To relieve my shattered nerves and
Convince me
That my ramblings on this earth is
Or at least will be
In some way
Worthwhile.
ksbeth
/ June 12, 2013nice poem, i think that is every person’s quest, to not have lived their life in vain ) beth
W. R. Woolf
/ June 12, 2013Thank you 🙂
I think you are right.
At least, if I met someone who did not care if he/she ever achieved anything, I would think them rather odd.
Thank you for reading and commenting 🙂
Widdershins
/ June 13, 2013I call those folk sleepwalkers. Thank goodness enough of us are awake.
W. R. Woolf
/ June 13, 2013That’s a very good name; it says a lot.
Do you mind if I adopt it?