Questions to Myself

A poem.

Feb 17, 2025

Konstantin Somov, *Landscape with two peasant girls and a rainbow*

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      What is wrong with living simply?                     
                     Life is what it is
as it is what it was for all who came before.

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       Generations of people   
 lived, loved, worked, suffered, died—
       asking not “what comes next?”
   but “if only”; “what for?”

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              When are you going to stop trying?            
              Aching for fantasy bites you again.

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                              When are you going to stop lying? 
     Your childish games are no fun in the end.

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                                 You’ve always had trouble just learning to blend.

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                             Maybe the problem is mental.       
       The man in the cave never questioned his fate.

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Then how come he discovered metal?

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          Calm down, dear.               
               Relax, dear.                     
                  You learned this too late.

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                                         Maybe it isn’t a problem.
              We’re all born to suffer—it isn’t just you.   
                         Maybe the solution comes bottled.

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                                   chug

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                     glug

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                                        yuck

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             worse

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                          Ugh!

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              Just get a clue.

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 What do you think you are doing?          
            Thinking can only get so far, you know?

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                 While you have been sitting here stewing
 Someone somewhere has been learning to grow.

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      Get out of your head and get ready to go.

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