Wednesday, March 26, 2008

O Me! O Life!

by Walt Whitman

O ME! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.


I wish it's that easy to do... live your life to the fullest, keep the faith, never give up.

As a child I have always been inquisitive, "Why is there no beginning and no end?" "Why are there poor and rich people?" "Why do people behave in certain ways while others don't?" ...More than two decades later, I never thought that I'd still be asking the same questions, only this time, I managed to make it even more complicated or more confusing or just plain daft & nonsensical.

Am I making mountains out of molehills? Perhaps -- Or does anything we ever say or do makes any sense at all?