Why does nothing interest me

another book shut 

a third of the way in

another episode I can’t finish

a political debate leaving the (supposedly)

undecided

in the exact same place

I am bored of you, world

I need more of you, world

Am I really speaking to myself in this?

I have been humbled and blessed to pass through 

a few doorways of gods

and felt the heartbeat of Everything

all at once and sober

There was I and no I at the same time

Divine

I have been given so much

yet have so far to go

The tools at my feet and within in me aren’t working

I should be feeling something

An urgency

Anything

Inspire me, world!

Demanding

Dear God

inspire me

Begging

I am ashamed to ask

How can the Ocean itself not be enough

Is there something missing

or only that very thought which betrays me

or is the something that is missing

in me?

They say this cliche

Wherever you go, there you are

and I agree

But then

To whom do I speak

What mystery do I seek

how dare nothing interest me