I read to turn the last page.
I eat to clean my plate.
I race to cross the finish line.
Music is different, but even so, sometimes I practice to simply learn a piece.
And at the end of the road? Only a feeling of slight satisfaction [combined with an overpowering emptiness] as I ask the inevitable 'Now what'?
Sometimes I worry that I'm going about life in the same way, and that as I'm turning the last corner, I'll once again ask that same question...
and only silence will be my answer.
Now what?
