Oui, oui

Oui, oui

Sunday, 12 February 2012

What am I supposed to do?

Should I talk with my arms outstretched
or sing with bare feet?
Should I write by candlelight and then discard the sheet,
With which I ponder despite inevitable defeat.
I have no definitive ideas regarding my path or vocation, and
have little belief in self-innovation.
Do I like who I am? 
Who am I?
Should I ask you?
Will you answer?
Does it matter?
I guess not.
The world is both too small and too big for such questions, and yet
is both too short and too long to avoid them.

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