There were the years that passed
When I pursued the meaning of life –
I often did not eat,
And usually never slept.
I realized that life
Could be given several meanings –
What mattered was
How one lived.
For me I found
Writing was the only thing –
I trained in it till death –
Then the moment of truth arrived.
I chose to write on life as it was,
Thinking it would culminate
In a vision that would
Make my readers’ lives happy.
But I concluded happiness is an illusion –
The closer it gets to its destination,
The later it is for arrival –
It promises but never delivers.
Life moved on in jaunty distress,
Ever spinning, never standing,
Always becoming –
I reasoned that I was not seeking happiness –
But a state more enlightening –
That is why I think
I am still seeking.
You may think I have wasted my life –
And you could be right,
But what choice did I have –
I walked through the only door open to me.
Suffern, New York, Dec. 28, 2016