Whither that itch? [poem]

Whither that itch?

   It is your discomfort
   the one you own
   the one that
   makes you.

Whither the drives?

   What propels one?
   What origin its
   force?
   What landscapes
   its shapes?

Do you fuel

   through the inclemency
   by means of the inclemency?

Happiness through unhappiness!
Comfort through discomfort!
Progress through failure!
Joy through fear.
Pain through pleasure.

This way! That!
Shiny thing make it all better!
Shiny car
shiny toy
shiny idea game thought meme
fish cat cute bear in the woods

and somewhere
(somehow)
in the midst of all that:
pattern.

A map?
A diagram?
A pretty picture? Or
a maze?

Ach.  Scratch it.
What else is there to do?

It's like my painter friend Donald used to say:
"Nobody ever figures out what life is all about
and it doesn't matter anyway."

The question nevertheless remains:
What are the parameters
of this question?