Clueless

I was sitting on the porch of my dwelling, which I like to call a dock. It is a dock because just in front of it flows the river that we call road. That's the route I have to take to sail myself away from my world to that on the outside. 

But this day I was just watching the ships sail by. Whizzing by in their shiny chrome, like a bee trapped inside a room. Where are they heading? What are they running from? What do they desire? It's such a strange place out there. Nobody knows what they want. Do I know what I want? No. It's a mystery. Perhaps I want to be rich, perhaps I want to be happy, or perhaps I just want to grow old. I don't know. Nobody knows. 

They say man, like all living beings, follows the natural order of things. The order, kept intact by laws of science and in case of man, social norms,  and the need to survive and propagate, is what keeps this world ticking. Perhaps it is true. Yet what appears to differentiate us from other fortunate beings is that we don't know what we want. We have no clue. Not at all!