Why would
I want to know
more than I need
when what's on hand
is deemed adequate?

Why would I
want to pursue
what others do?

My compass I set
where my heart it fits
my inclinations are limited:
life has a hundred million songs
to listen to
and as many poems
to be read-
give me only a few
my heart and soul
to feed
further I don't really need-

time and the years
how they roll on
silently
nonchalantly
content I am
with whatever beauty
I'm fortunate enough
to meet and greet