Questions

Questions

What do you do

When you have

No cause to die for,

No motive to live for;

When you live,

Because you must?

What do you do,

When you walk the path,

Ignorant of the source,

And of your destination?

You don’t even remember why

You chose to walk;

All you do remember

Is that you must not stop.

What do you do

When you become,

Insensitive, uncaring

Of the world around you?

Nothing seems to warm

Your now frozen soul.

What do you do

When the fire within

Has burnt itself out?

You see no goal, no future.

Neither a beginning,

Nor even an end;

All you seem to have

Is your own self,

And these questions.

Questions, the ‘correct’ answers to which,

Somehow sound good and right,

But feel very hollow.

You wish they were right,

So you can accept them,

But somehow, something says,

It don’t feel right.