i can't explain

onism

it was two am this morning
when i was on a plane,
flying over the arctic ocean
through the endless white sky
and sea of blue clouds in motion.

with nothing to do
and nothing to see
all i could do was sit
and think about my existence
and the flight.

existential crisis much.

"an adventure"
they say with those smiles
i wish i could tear off.

a call for adventure?
is this like some fiction shit?

because there's no way i'll be like frodo
exploring all of middle earth
in a mere 18 years
when our earth is full of capitalism
and favours are not free from your peers.

never will i be able to roam the entire length of the great wall,
nor wander the arctic ice caps.
never will i be able to encounter all of the world's best,
nor will i hear of them.

i won't have time to experience all the cultures of the world,
nor use all the words humankind has to offer.
i won't be able to explore all of the underwater world,
hell, we've only explored five percent of it.

i can't explain this feeling i have
where i know i won't be able to see everything
in this beautiful world
full of love and despair
and grief and greed
and heroism and courage
and life and death.

i can't explain this feeling i have
where i know
i'll only be alive
for another eighty odd years
and will only experience
so little of what the world has to offer.