Impetus

Through no fault singularly my own, I
am propelled forward through time and space; and
I do not know what to do with myself,
yet I do not have time to figure it
all out. I must press on, I must keep on
going, keep on trucking, no time for me
to sit around worrying or to try
and make sense of last night's dreams, nor for you
to complain or tie me down again; no
time for games, no time for whining, no time
for anything you might have left to throw
at me. I must be moving on, I must,
I must, I must, I ... I don't know what
I am supposed to be doing or where
I am supposed to be going or who
I am supposed to be, but I must be.