The man who will not be found

Who were the writers who wrote?

Why did they write?

Did they not know

they could have been engineers?

Or doctors?

Have a steady job,

and live a normal life?

Why did they write?

Were they crazy?

Were they mad?

What drove them,

and what did they write?

Did they write stories about themselves,

or about what they wanted to find?

Were they revered

in their time, or mine?

Were they loved and appreciated,

or were they denounced?

Why are some still to be found,

on the dusty shelves

of an endless library aisle,

while others are torn and forgotten, never to be found?

Should I gladly risk

being a forgotten name—

but still, someone who tried?

Or should I do what is normal:

build a career,

and have a secure time?