Am I just tired, tired of being, or tired of being me?
Is there desire? Desire for being, or desire to be set free?
And if freedom means dying, don’t think I’m not trying
Life is like that, you’re on your way
And if it’s truly over, look back but go forward
You can have it all, your dying day
Is there a fire, when danger is a given?
Isn’t it stranger to hold it at bay?
Can we find safety, or is safety just illusion
Does it matter if we last the day?
Kick it around, and what will be found
Depends on a point of view
But is there a point, and is there a view?
And what binds or makes the two?
More questions than answers, but perhaps that’s the fun
Certainty is compelling, but tends toward the one
One is a paradox–that one, a one, anyone, someone
No need to explain
To make it plain
It’s plain to see
We’re straight up trapped, until we’re free
Is it better to know your time is up, or is time prone to slice you up
It’s up to us though we may never know
Nor do we have much choice
But to choose on imperfect information
For bittersweet and eternal vacations
But no one really knows, or been back from the brink
Some say they’ve been, some say they think
There must be something more, or simply what’s the point?
They insist they know, they self anoint
And that’s just fine for me
‘Cause it’s out of my purview
But if you’d ask, I’d guess, there are no special cues
When we leave this life its final, and finally we shall know
Where it is we’ve come from, and where it is we’ll go
As for me I think it’s nowhere, though nowhere is still a place
Reality and nothingness are sure to share a space
With what we know, the unknowable
With what we think, the unthinkable
With who we are, the un-be-able
There has to be middle, if muddled, ground
Transience and permanence
A yin, a yang
A face, a dead serious proposition
A lie, a guess, an earnest admission
In the end it’s clearly unclear, why we try, why we’re here
Why we sing, why we shed these sorry tears
Does life owe us a debt?
Could a cost even be set?
Would we ask for payment in insights, joys, or years?