Something ineffable;
the droves of life
denied in splendor
to the mind

Something perplexing
a vexing muse of
reality
infused with abnormality

That absurd thing
we call the soul
ever whispers
even in its screams
we behold

Questions fledging
answers swarm
to ride on seraph’s wings
above the storm

Never being
erred, and e’er become
All but streaming
fleeing, gleamed in
growth, amidst hope
with such aplomb

We are meant
in the meaningless
Squandered passions
roused ambivalence

In freedom
we are lost
Untethered from truth
As we amass the idle questioning
Formed in what makes us
Aloof

What does it mean
to be
human?

Monstrous indulgences
of wandering in abundance
seeking shelter
in the wholeness
of fulfillment

Yet
We are ever empty
Never fully

We