Ambition

Who stole my ambition?

Who would do such a thing?

Perhaps it was the "I" that stole the "me",

Along with its precious time

And memories.

So now what?

How does one live in this world with

No identity?

Seems the "I" has been placed into

Structure and form,

Now some-one must learn to

DO SOMETHING!

I notice the desire for purpose

Is present and unclear,

Because I want to know,

Whose purpose do I serve

In a sea of "me's"

And its collective fear?

Perhaps I'll invest my energy

Into defining this "I"

As both dark and light...

As the beauty we all nod

And agree upon,

As much as the ugly stuff

That sparks a bit of fun

When plastered on the "other" one.

I have no plans

And I've lost all attachment to "fun".

Sounds scary... I know,

But I find there's so much to absorb

When the "I" is here,

And has lost all ambition

To run.