I want to understand what we are, who we are.
For a long time, I thought that made me special.
I thought I was the only one who wanted to see beyond the curtain
Of day to day being alive.
But in my quest to learn of purpose, I’ve learned I was naive.
Wrong.
Sometimes buried by layers of soil and cold, hard wood,
Sometimes suffocated by others’ hands, or blurred by electronic haze,
But deep down,
Everyone wants to know.
Who we are, what we are.
Praying with unmoving lips,
That we are not merely a statistical anomaly of the universe.
Trying to order and reorder,
We want meaning, but we’re searching in all the wrong places.
Open up to me.
I’m lonely.
You teach, and I’ll learn to understand.