Lately

Lately I've been dreaming of the end of the world,
of the time when everything stops:
Problems and progress alike unfurl
and their threads blow away in the barren wind
that sweeps over an empty Earth

A few lone figures roam the land,
searching for anything they can redeem,
But the remnants they find are already lifeless,
and it is beyond their power
to reclaim the dead from their punishment... or their paradise
(It depends on how one looks at it)

Lately I've been wondering what part of me is real:
my nighttime dreams or my actions;
I can't decide which universe is the one that matters,
Because my dreams
are so much more fulfilling than life's waking hours--
Maybe that's why it's so hard
to get out of bed in the morning

I think I should reconsider my priorities
and examine the worth of the hardly-remembered experiences
of the unconscious hours before sunrise,
Because even though the memories don't last
they leave in their wake a sense of longing

Lately I've been feeling that my life is stale,
because my daydreams are so much more to me
than the time I waste in insignificant tasks...
I sense that at the end, I will judge myself to be a disgrace--
unless I make a difference

If I manage to improve something,
If I create some lasting legacy,
If I discover a way to make the world a better place to live...

Then maybe I will find peace in death

Until then, though,
I guess I have to go on,
because if I don't search for a way
to transform everything,
then I'll never find a way
to make my life worth anything.