I like to think I work to better man.
I like to think my impact could be great,
Yet somehow fetid boredom is my state
Despite my challenge to myself to stand.
I am not free of work or work’s demand.
I am not free to choose my daily fate.
My greater purpose I have yet to sate,
So still I wonder if my future’s bland.
But why still wonder if my soul is true?
And why anticipate what’s yet to be?
My heart, if strong, will know how passions grew
and how, in turn, regrets must number few.
One step I want to take but cannot see
so sideways steps may be all I can do.