Poetry

And

As we go
Through life or
Through the motions
We want more

More than what
We have or need
We just can’t stand
The thought

The thought of being
Happy or maybe even
Content with life
Because what about Heaven?

Heaven is perfection
Then we can’t have that
Here. We can’t be happy
Or even content

Here. We must live
And go through the motions
What is life?
Except a notion

Until death.
And then what?