Purpose

Purpose prose poem

Photo by Song_sing


What’s the point?
To life
I mean.

Here, we find
ourselves
following
The crowd.
Doing
as those who came
before.
Why?

Did they know
something,
anything,
about anything?

Mindless
lemmings
are we?

Are we building
something?

We’re born,
we live,
we move on.

What do we do?
Who do we follow?
Anyone?
Are they right?
About what?

Seems like the milieu
is out of focus.

Time to evolve.

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