Locked out

I’m trying so hard
To shoehorn my life into
The container that
I willingly bought
From the peddlers
Of mainstream culture–
That at a certain age
I’m supposed to be
Somewhere with someone
That I’m supposed to know
Enough of something
At a certain point in time
That I must produce something
Be it an heir to my throne
Or a product of indisputable value
That I can leave behind
As proof that I ever existed

Why am I so desperate
To meet these seemingly
Arbitrary milestones?
Why can’t the words ever be enough
To quench the thirsty soul?
Why can’t faith in the divine
Calm the spirit trapped in the material world?

I see all these pictures
Posted by friends of their
Own family gatherings
Outings with their own children
And can’t help feel a tinge
Of regret at how I mistimed
My own attempts at being
Like everyone else
Even though I knew what I was doing–
Nobody exiled me
I exiled myself
To chase a contrarian agenda
Because I thought I could
Stay out a little longer
Than everybody else
To play in the sandbox
Even though all the kids
Had already run away
To do grown-up things
And ultimately with enough time
Become grown-ups themselves

And ultimately with enough time
Even I realized that
The sandbox seemed smaller
And I wanted to know what
The grown-ups were making a fuss about
Over in their corner of the world–
Now I’m outside looking in
Hands pressed against the barrier
Unable to find a way inside

And there’s always a tick-tocking that
Can be heard whether
Real or imagined
Biological or psychological–
A metaphor for the abstract notion
Of entropy or the devolution of
The orderly into chaos
Of preset opportunities being
Locked away into unavailable configurations

Is there ever redemption for
Someone who forsakes being around others?
Can there be salvation for
A pursuer of ideas instead of friendships?
Can love ever be found if the process
To find it has been postposed so much
That any eventual attempts
Seem tragically sloppy
Or ironically laughable?

All these questions–
And all I have are words
But no answers