AN IDEAL LIFE

How I long for an unoccupied life.

I can sleep in on weekdays,

then go to Starbucks to read newspapers

and chat with friends, cracking jokes.

There’s no need to hurry to work

or analyze the smiles

of my boss and clients,

though people say I’m too lazy,

staying home all the time and kept by my wife.

I often ask myself:

why must I be the mainstay

of my household? I struggle

outside in the world. I try to serve

my children, satisfy my wife.

You don’t have to live so hard.

You don’t need to carry on your bloodline.

You can live with ease and die

alone, at your own pace.

But at night I often hear a voice

whisper, tickling my ear:

“There’s no meaning in an effortless life —

you came into this world

just to strive into another self.”