Dirt With No Regrets

I believe that wants and desires keep us alive.

It is hope that gives us reason to live,

And if there is no desire,

Then there is nothing to hope for.

We do not truly achieve satisfaction

"In the moment".

We are merely happy that the end goal we are pursuing

Has come that much closer.

The promise of possible future satisfaction

Gives us pleasure in the present.

But what if there is nothing I desire?

I have no goal that I wish to reach,

No trophy I wish to obtain.

There is nothing concrete

Tethering my mind to this world.

But we all want something.

When each day passes, I wish for the day before;

I pine for the past.

But that is not enough to save me.

For I have found the past is a bleak, empty place to build one's home,

And so I am trapped in the present.

If only there was a future for me to escape to --

But none of them enthrall me.

There is no hypothetical might-be strong enough

To bind me to this present.

So, why should I stay?

I will become dirt with no regrets.

Author's Note

Introspective prose-y poem thing.