Everywhere I walk, someone
is jumping up, down, yelling,
“Hey, look at me. I’m somebody.
I can do something. Look.
Tell me that I’m special.”
There are so many voices
all crying out with a personal
message, a promise of what?
Who knows. Nothing lasts,
not even the emptiness
that comes after success,
only a hunger for more
which leads to longing for
yet more. “Vanity. Vanity,”
the Preacher said. “All is
vanity.” Wasted efforts
on mortal gains. Perhaps
to acknowledge our maker,
unselfishly give our gifts
to those who walk beside us
along this road from time to time.
Perhaps, that
is purpose enough and requires
little jumping and no yelling.