Life’s a pursuit —
Steel-toe truth kicking whores out the booth.
Masked up intellect, vernacular acute,
Every verse ready to drop bombs like Achmed in a parachute.
Sometimes it chase you with that red and blue flash,
Sirens harmonize lurking and waiting like a mermaid about to feast on their catch!
Justice to a jury, terror in the stash,
Freedom got a fee — who accounting for the cash?
Some pursuits literal — footsteps in the alley,
Some dig through data like a code-crack rally.
Evidence bagged up, logic in a valley,
Anything anomalous? They bury it gladly.
Aliens? The Supernatural? Secret organizations?
Label it “conspiracy”, then gaslight and castrate em!
What ever it takes for total world domination.
But most of us chase the orthodox script —
Nine-to-five grind with a coffee cup grip.
Suit and a tie like a noose that fit,
Cap and a gown, wedding band legit.
Credit score holy like a numeric pope,
Praying to Experian for a mortgage hope.
Ambition whisper, “Climb higher, don’t choke,”
Prove you the lion in a cubicle cloak.
Life’s a pursuit — panel by panel,
Hero with a flaw and a cracked enamel.
Dream big? Or dream manufactured?
Mirage in the desert, oasis fractured.
Goalpost slide when the rest feel captured,
Hunger unsatisfied, appetite raptured.
Is it purpose? Or panic in disguise?
Legacy lust with a fear of demise.
We want our names in italicized skies
Before we fossilize under time’s replies.
Chasing wealth like coffins got pockets sewn,
Validation loud but the void still grown.
Applause like stitches on a cracked funny bone,
Soul never asked what it wanted on its own.
Life’s a pursuit — but pivot the lens.
Maybe it inward through corridors and bends.
Doors marked “Not enough” where the echo descends,
“Too late,” “Who you think you are?” as it bends.
Maybe the prize ain’t the glittering plate,
Maybe it’s tension forging iron from weight.
Friction sparks flint when the pressure create
A muscle memory stronger than fate.
Purpose ain’t a place with a ribbon and bow,
It’s a vector — direction of the undertow.
Not “Did you arrive?” but “Did you grow?”
Alignment over applause in the undertone glow.
Even if the cosmos ghost our petition,
Stars stay mute in cold repetition,
Meaning ain’t shipped with assembly edition —
We still breathe in defiant ignition.
We author the margins, thesis in motion,
Footnotes written in sweat and devotion.
Pursuit ain’t emptiness — it’s internal combustion,
Fire in the furnace of self-discussion.
We chase ‘cause stillness feel counterfeit,
Question ‘cause comfort don’t sit legit.
Maybe the wondering is the grit,
Maybe horizon ain’t meant to submit.
Life’s a pursuit — inked in the running,
Not what we fleeing or what we’re becoming,
But who we are when the heartbeat’s drumming —
Masked up truth with the circuitry humming.