Brain flickers,
like an almost empty light bulb.
Realization trickles in
and you think to yourself,*
"What am I really doing?"
You'll try to post pins on a map,
trying to contour your life.
Most of the map will be blank.
A large lack of red pins pushed into the paper.
You'll try to understand why,
you'll look back and regret.
Regret the ticket you didn't buy,
the person you didn't talk to.
You'll want to change it.
But, you can't.
You'll crave to remember how it made you feel,
that trip across the world or that concert.
You won't remember.
And when you're dying,
you'll sit.
You'll wonder,
think
and question.
"Did I ever know what I was really doing?"
*No, you couldn't.
2016-08-02
__________
I've come to the realization that across the constellations of people on this Earth, nobody has ever experienced everything the world has to offer. This poem is sort of based off that.
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