Purpose at 26


How do you suppose we make it,
When life has passed you by?
The years had gone so slowly,
But all the while awry.

What one may deem important,
Another may be surprised,
When heart and mind despondent,
There’s nothing left but time.

I think about life’s meaning,
And what it has in store,
Have I somehow missed it?
Looking back I can’t ignore.

My twenties quickly fading,
Thirties knocking at the door,
My job, my school, my nothing,
Is my life really such a bore?

I obsess about the simple things,
As that is all I have,
‘No more wire hangers,’
Isn’t that just sad?

Relief just around the corner,
The pain is in the past,
Holding on to the baggage,
And that is why nothing lasts.

How can I be so stupid,
And also somehow smart,
Always missed by cupid,
Pushes me back to the start.

No answers to my questions,
Only more held in my heart,
Life’s treasures are always hidden,
By me always playing a part.

Perfection in my tasks,
I lose my self-control,
I see that I have nothing,
When I open my bedroom door.

Monetary value,
Is more down instead of up,
I go around in circles,
When will this thing ever stop?

Is happiness in religion?
And comfort at the cross?
Or are we truly kidding,
And we’re only our own boss?

The days turn to weeks,
And months into years,
There’s nothing still uncovered,
Without shedding some more tears.

The pillar of salt if you believe,
Is an Alcatraz around my neck,
Slowly choking my life’s purpose,
With absolutely no safety net.

It’s hard to see through confusion,
And make it to the other side,
Without roadblocks and disillusion,
Stopping you in your stride.

Am I somehow compensating,
For the not so public side,
Nothing really matters,
But is it a complete lie?

I’m tired of the waiting,
The cracks are now revealed,
But will I see the sunshine,
Or doubt that it is real?

The path to my enlightenment,
Down deep within my soul,
My steps always uncertain,
I want to feel so much more.

Patience is a virtue,
And loneliness a crime,
But how can I start over,
Is there really enough time?

How do you suppose we make it,
With few hours in the day?
And when the night is over,
That is where you’d like to stay.

I once believed in happiness,
Fairy tales in childhood times,
But now I wonder if it’s really true,
The search begins just inside.

When no one really loves you,
In that nice and special way,
You hide yourself completely,
Except at the end of the day.

But seeing when you wake up,
That the routine is still in store,
Do you embrace it with a passion?
Please tell me I implore.

Much of the same now different,
With frequent flyer miles,
Take the knife and plunge it,
It’ll only hurt for a while.

I’m wishful in my thinking,
But actions disagree,
A time of intense reflection,
Is what I really need.

One step forward,
And more than ten steps back,
When finding my life’s purpose,
I must pick up the slack.

Twenty six years of living,
Twenty six poetry lines,
Only one of me in existence,
Only one of me when I die.

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Photo courtesy of LaToya Davidson