Disillusioned *revised*

Too much to say, I forgot where to start,
I know I need to wash clothes soon, but why?
dirty dishes need tending to, but I
have stains which need mending too.

Grow up, be a big boy and wear the pants
your fathers wore, hurry up and get a job son
or you'll surely end up poor; If I'd just had the chance
to get some perspective before I'd begun.

Sit down with the unmoved mover,
ask him why we must maintain,
a state of perfection before he'll maneuver
in the realm of our senses again.

Just a word, a glimpse, a sign
would surely be enough,
but when the only voice is mine,
my bias makes it tough

to hold an impartial view
of what life is meant to be for me,
and whether or not the same applies to you.

They say he walked the earth
for thirty three some odd years,
and they're awfully zealous that after birth
and death, came resurrection, a cure for mortal fears.

I've examined what they call evidence
and there's some compelling reasoning,
but it's tough to tell the difference
between inherent logic, and wishful thinking.

The latter clouded my judgment
so it seemed to all make sense,
I longed for a little contentment
so I put up a weak defense.

For now I'm fine with not knowing
what it is that makes up reality,
where we came from, where we're going,
and whether we'll ever know what it was meant to mean.