The Wanting Was the Whole Problem

Chase the raise, and get the raise, and feel the itch again Chase the person, and get the person, and the itch starts up again It was never really about the thing you were reaching for The wanting itself was the engine, running underneath the score

The wanting was the whole problem, quieter than it looks Something underneath the object, underneath the goal you took The mind builds a story where the next thing finally satisfies Then arrives, and finds a newer next thing standing in disguise

Enough was always a number the wanting could move again More was never a finish line, just a hallway made of ten More hallways after that one, each one looking like the end Until the wanting itself gets noticed as the actual friend

The wanting was the whole problem, quieter than it looks Something underneath the object, underneath the goal you took Loosen the grip a little, and the itch loses some of its heat A quiet afternoon starts to feel like plenty, feels complete

This isn't giving everything up, becoming empty and cold It's noticing how few things a calm life actually needs to hold Bread, a friend, a view, a little shade in the heat The rest was a hallway the wanting built, brick by brick, street by street

The wanting was the whole problem, quieter than it looks Something underneath the object, underneath the goal you took Trade the hallway for the room you're standing in right now Trade the reaching for the having, and watch how the grip loosens somehow

The wanting was the whole problem, and easing it is the whole cure Fewer hallways, more rooms, plainer, steadier, more secure Enough was always available, right here, plenty, whole Once the wanting quiets down enough to let you feel it, and hold