There is no great mystery to life.
We do not all have some greater purpose
Or some all important place in this world.
Some of us are just here.

This huge pressure of making a difference,
The gnawing need to make an impact,
To not be forgotten when we turn to dust
Is an all consuming anxiety

There is no riddle to the beating of your heart,
No conspiracy to the air in your lungs,
You are breathing, your heart is beating, and you exist.
Sometimes that is all there is to it

We are not all destined for greatness
And the realisation that we are one of the many,
Is more horrifying than any else.