Why do I do it

Why do I try,

Why do I awake so early,

To wipe my weary eyes

I then trudge on to class,

And sit there to await the hours that slowly pass

Wondering why

As I rarely soak in the knowledge the professor shares,

And even when I do I don’t always care

Often infatuating myself with why I’m there

Such thoughts and questions leave me with more wonders than I have answers

Though some of what I’ve gathered along my wondrous way,

Is the desire for a lively life, that excites like the moves of Caribbean dancers

I crave something more than just a degree with a major,

That I’m afraid only leads to a life of work and little flavor

I don’t mean to imply schooling as bad

How could I when in my life everyday I do it,

But rather to find the difference in my conscious,

Of why I put myself through it

I value the experience as through it I’ve began to discover,

The differences in the wonderers like me and that of the others

Of how our ambitions burden to seek more,

More than just the world learned through our parents and mothers

Part of me envies those I share life with everyday

Those who take plight in the shared worldly knowledge and simple things,

Used to make and produce tangible goods that the world needs by all means

Going about the process in their focused and continuous way

Sometimes I wish I had their presence of mind, as direct and fixated as it seems,

But all I can do is sit there and dream

There are no wrongs in education and formality,

For those who seek the comfort in its teachings and guidance

But it limits the mind to the sole practice of rational things,

While I reach beyond for the irrationality of my dreams

Finding no comfort in its directed assurance of sure things provided,

I’d rather pursue the secrets hidden by the world to confide in

Maybe I know why I wonder

And maybe I like wondering what the things I wonder about may bring

As I’ve begun to find interest in discovering things that aren’t always what they seem

For anything in the world that’s unclear and may hide secrets,

Are the things covered and conspired by those who find them,

For being too smart to reveal it

As for all of the few and very few wonderers

We seek to create things we cannot see

Not knowing where it leads nor what result may be

Finding joy in the things that are hard to find,

We believe the most powerful thing in the world to have no volume nor mass,

That one thing, being the wondrous mind

And as for me

I’ll keep dreaming of the things that only by vision one can see,

That the world’s few wonderers are bright enough to hope in and believe

As we live on to question and think

Until curiosity leads our kind to create,

Things such as novels and books

Their storied gifts shared by the most ambiguous wonderers who dare to look

As for me

Amidst all the uncertainty and wondering be,

I conclude a simple soul is far from anything I will ever be

But as a wonderer may I always see

May I forever seek the unknown,

Wherever it may be