in the evening
awash in uncertainty, sadness
and being too full.
Too often.
If there were more moments of
happiness
and
fewer moments
of guilt.
I don't know why.
Guilt
of wasting time, minutes, hours, days,
the future, the past, energy

Do something
but what?
what results in something
special, unusual, memorable,
worthy
of what?
but does it matter.
tomorrow,
the next day,
some tiny distant point in the future,
so far, so small from this distance.
a speck.
Looking back,
a speck,
less than
Is there a reason?
probably not.
I want some gleaming, dynamic truth,
some momentous measure of being,
a why, a wherefore.

I just don't know what to do.