Singing to Empty Seats
Maybe I’ve too little of myself left to give
but how boring, how sloth –
to wander sans wonder,
carrying only the understanding of what is
required of you. Truly, even that belief
Think of seven year-old you on Halloween –
how firmly you knew – you knew – that you
would be fine stuffing your innocent little face
with every last morsel of sugary goodness and
how those people – those bullies, those tyrants
that called themselves your parents made you stop.
BUT I EARNED THIS
BUT I WON’T GET SICK
BUT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND
(is that sunrise piercing through yet?)
Think of sixteen year-old you in High School
(and really, that should be enough), but think:
whether you played Football or Chess,
Track, Debate, Soccer, Tennis;
whether you partied or fucked early and often,
whether you took up drugs or cigarettes;
How well did you understand the world?
How well did you understand yourself?
(are you still dreaming?)
And think of you here – now –
and everything you’ve managed to become –
what makes you laugh so hard your lungs gasp for air and your eyes leak tears?
what makes you worry your entire day away, and
what worries other people that you just don’t understand?
what makes you feel important, and what makes you feel invisible?
what motivates you?
what inspires you?
Do you honestly think your answers will be the same in ten years? Twenty? Forty?
So I will keep singing to these empty seats, to my beautiful audience,
held captive only by their desire for growth,
while others drown in dreams of self-fulfillment –
sleeping away their entire lives.