Why do we yearn for forever,
For things to last and outlast us?
Is it not enough for one thing to have existed,
Even for only a minute?
How valuable can scarcity make a moment?
Why do we need more,
More of that thing they have and we don’t?
Is it not enough to have enough,
To have room for others to enter our lives?
How whole can contentment make emptiness?
Why do we lust over greatness and genius
And legacy, as if only these are worthy pursuits?
Is it not enough to have done well — our best, even,
To have left this earth better than before we came?
How purposeful can goodness make success?
Why do we rush towards the future,
Unwilling to wait for things to play themselves out?
Is it not enough to have arrived here?
Is it not enough to be breathing this air?
How worthwhile can presence make a life?