An Epiphany

Things change.
Everything that was
no longer is.
Different ideals
form new actions.
Who am I?
Who are you?
I ask ---
no answer
just a gust of wind
sweeping my pleas away ---
We are living in a bizarre dream,
a misperception of what it means to be.
What do we really know
about being warriors
dying for a righteous cause?
To who do I owe my loyalty to?
To the sleep-walkers
whose actions are only mechanical
and without feeling or thought .
. . or to my homeboys
if any, at all exist . . .?
I hear many theories
on how life should be
and what some of us
should do with ourselves;
but what should I do ---
sit around and wait for others
to decide my fate?
And maybe catch another ten, or fifty
more years . . . better yet, that
life sentence the Judge reserved for
a later time
will be finally mine.
Each day the battle
to keep my sanity
amidst this madness continues . . .
Once, or twice
I’ve wanted to give up
to throw my hands up
and surrender to the worst part of me. I’m sick and tired
of being clueless
in my own life.
I need a reason to continue
not a mysterious gain
for the good in me
I’m trying to recuperate.
Once again
I am pestered by ideals
not of my own
founded to fight a cause
which up to this moment
I don’t have a clue
of what exactly
it is supposed to be about . . .