When I see the sea once more
will the sea have seen or not seen me?
Why do the waves ask me
the same questions I ask them?
And why do they strike the rock
with so much wasted passion?
Don't they get tired of repeating
their declaration to the sand?
People look at me and say I'm "doing my own thing". I say I'm walking the path that's being built in front of me.
I don't believe in predestination or that people's fates are "written" but, given that my choices involve doing what brings me enjoyment and fulfillment, I'm not sure that my life could be otherwise than what it is.
I ask a lot of questions, mostly about the people around me. Why do they not make the same kinds of fulfilling choices?
People seem so unhappy...
I'm only really unhappy when I can't get to the bottom of the "why".
I like this photo because it's a burst of colour in wintery greys:
