Success, Redefined

I did it all, young, and well.
The "good job," the husband,
One white picket fence, then another.

I marched dutifully forward with the crowd,
Building some hollow version of a life.
A colossal monument to emptiness.

As I tear it all down
In search of passion and fulfillment,
Many see a backward slide.

They're not exactly right or wrong.
Moving forward in truth can feel backwards
If one goes against the crowd.

My moving forward feels more like backing away.
Sidestepping up onto the bank,
Creating distance to gain perspective.

Backing away to higher ground,
Out of the mindless stream of unconsciousness,
Toward a place of meaning, connection, purpose.

I don't know what I'll find out here,
But this backward forward motion feels right and good.
Success, redefined.