The world at large neither knows
nor cares how you feel
Yet, for reasons unknown,
it stands silently and indifferently,
Watching the spectacle
of your wanting to exist.
Were you but a lump of modeling clay
Would you have cared for your formlessness?
Or, if you were just a molecule,
Would it have made sense
if you complained
Why you were a component molecule of water?
Or, maybe a molecule in some underground mineral alloy?
Yet, being human, you have grown used
To the will of being You.
you keep asserting your will to be You.
Your you-ness has cost you worldly affiliation
No doubts about that
However, does it give you great joy
to be You?