Maybe

To describe the angst of not knowing. Of wanting more, of feeling just the edges of something magnificent, something that could be mine. How do I live with the knowing? With the not knowing? How do you?

I want the entire world. I want to give myself over to the entire world. I want to die having accomplished all this, having edified the ones I love and the ones I never knew. It's all that is in me, all I've ever dreamed, and yet I sit here, thinking of it in starts and stops, all I'm supposed to be doing, all I haven't yet begun.  Then comes guilt. Remorse. Time wasted, people lost because of me.  And I still have no idea.

Yet sometimes, the revelation. The epiphany of a road before me, drenched in sunlight and very clear, a road I cannot lose myself upon. Sometimes I can feel that it's there. I devise plans, make sketches, take the first initial steps. Yet inevitably I stall. I question. I wonder if I ever truly saw the road in the first place.  Maybe the road was a dream? And so I look back to the crossroad, that place in the dirt of my life where I first decided on a different direction, and it looks safer.

And I backtrack.

I have lived these years of my life backtracking and drenched in sunlight. These have been long, terrible, glorious years. At the end of my days I wonder if I'll realize that life was only ever about that, the starts and the stops and the realization that we never go anywhere, and that is the point.

But what if it's not? What if in the end I realize that life is up in the stars, and that I've spent all my time looking at a road, wasting time?

Because maybe there is no road. Maybe in the end I'll see I've been living life up in the stars all along, creating a road in my mind, a road to constrain me. Maybe I'm already perfect just as I am. Already all that I seek, the world and the people and the revelation, it's in the pupil of my eye, the crash of my pulse, the ridges in my palm. Maybe I am the stars.

And maybe that's all.