Until A Question Poem by Sylvie Morel

A straight and narrow path:
what society has paved,
what our parents expect,
and what we ourselves have come to anticpate.

Go to school.
Get a job.
Get married.
Be well compensated.
Be well rewarded.
Be well taken care of.
Conform and be well.

Until you hit a question,
at thirty, forty or fifty...
when the stock market crashes,
and the company downsizes,
and there isn't enough money
to fill the gaping hole that swallows you at midnight.

Until you hit a question,
at thirty, forty or fifty...
and your spouse is a stranger,
you don't make love anymore,
and the word soul mate is for fools,
because everyone knows that passion
doesn't last a lifetime.

Until you hit a question,
at thirty, forty or fifty...
and you ask yourself:
Where did the time go?

Go to school.
Get a job.
Get married.
Be well compensated.
Be well rewarded.
Be well taken care of.
Conform and be well.

Until you hit a question,
at thirty, forty of fifty...
and the straight and narrow path is lost.