Why Are We Here





 What is life all about?
Why do we trudge this
Mundane path each
and every Single day?
 
I work hard
And so do you;
And others
Don’t
But we all end up in the
Same line.
 
I give of myself
Till my skin bleeds
With nothing to show
Except stupidity.
 
You are handsome
I am quite easy on the eyes.
Personality stellar;
Still lost in solitude.
 
Why are we here?
I have planted gardens,
Saved animals,
Cleaned the shoreline,
Prayed to God,
Saved a life.
Everything that feels right.
 
But I am still wondering
Why are we here?
 
I can not be a
Better friend
Nor more responsive
Lover.
I am open, sincere
Honest to a fault.
 
Life puzzles me
As I know not what it
Wants.
I only know what
I can give.
Which never seems
To be enough.
 
Amanda Curtis/SITO
SheisTheOne SheisTheOne
46-50, F
6 Responses Jul 25, 2010

I have imagined Martin Luther King thinking this as he stood on the balcony seconds before departing our world...<br />
<br />
I have thought of Nelson Mandela <br />
<br />
<br />
in response to your last reply SITO<br />
<br />
“I slept and dreamt that life was joy. I awoke and saw that life was service. I acted and behold, service was joy.” Tagore Rabindranath<br />
<br />
<br />
I have imagined an angel saying this to a board of angelic inquiry having passed from this mortal coil into higher planes of existence...and the board ticking some divine exam paper thereby graduating that angel to their next school of angelic learning...<br />
<br />
perhaps you are one of those angels SITO

Dear Dragoncat,<br />
<br />
You may be right...as it is not done till the fat lady sings....LOL<br />
on a more serious note...sometimes giving of yourself is never done until you are.<br />
<br />
wow! what a sad thought. so you go thru your entire life giving and caring and ....<br />
perhaps it is not till then you reap your reward?<br />
<br />
thanks for your input/thoughts.<br />
<br />
SheisTheOne

Very nice poem... <br />
Maybe the answer is ... because you are not done yet.<br />
When does the baker remove the bread from the oven?<br />
When does the sculptor lay down his chisel when working a piece?<br />
When asked, "Michelangelo, when will you be done painting the Sistine Chapel?"<br />
<br />
He replied, "When I am done."

Raven....Thank you! <br />
I take that being distrubed has made you think which is always good.<br />
<br />
I luved your response especially the last stanza <br />
<br />
"In her smile she packs some treats<br />
Giving sunshine to darkened streets<br />
She's the One I'd like to meet<br />
I guess I'm on my way"<br />
<br />
Smiles to you!

I agree it is a good, insightful poem, because it disturbs me so. I often write poetry and songs and prose. I write a lot and much of it disturbs other people, while I am sitting looking at them, telling them, "I finally got it figured out that far." So I understand so much that all the things that I have gone through that would change this poem, would be fairly useless to the poetry.<br />
That said (it is long-winded for biting my tongue).<br />
I offer a response:<br />
She walks into the woods<br />
I would follow her if I could<br />
In her basket she's got goods<br />
<br />
Her basket is full of treats<br />
Bringing Granny goody sweets<br />
She's the One I'd like to meet<br />
And it scares me so<br />
<br />
I smiled at her and she said "Oh my!<br />
We should talk a while." "I'll try"<br />
I walked away from her, real high<br />
I guess I'm on my way<br />
<br />
In her smile she packs some treats<br />
Giving sunshine to darkened streets<br />
She's the One I'd like to meet<br />
I guess I'm on my way<br />
<br />
These are lines from a song I wrote where Little Red Riding hood is strong and the wolf is shy. It came to mind after reading your poem. It is a bluesy song full of fun and promise. It may not answer the pervasive, evasive question of why, yet it kinda begs one to stick around to see if there is an answer.<br />
Smiles!

I really enjoyed this poem, you have a way with words,<br />
keep up the good work :)