Questions.

~ a poem

Who am I?
Why am I here?
Why am I not over there?
Where do I come from?
Where am I going?
Is someone or something leading me there? Or do I have the reins firmly within my grasp?
Am I leading a life of quiet desperation?
Am I truly self-aware?
Am I restless?
Am I rested?
Am I listless?
Am I tested?
Is it possible to be content with myself as a person yet not content with my current state of being?
What does it mean to passively experience unalterable life-changing eventualities of my own indomitable spirit?
What happens after all of this?
What happened before all of this?
What is happening now?
What’s next?
What is it to know?
What is it to be known?
What does it mean to be loved?
Am I capable of love?
Do I really exist?
Do they really exist?
Are these thoughts my own?
Is my death possible?