All your years you wonder,
What is my purpose?
My purpose of being, my purpose of giving, but purpose for myself.
Is it selfish to wonder your purpose?

Through stained glass windows, cracked open from the broken pieces,
You can see. You can see quite clearly actually.
Is my purpose just a dream?
Is my purpose only a hopeful thought, increasing faith?

How do you know when to act upon your purpose?
Is it right? But if I'm wrong, it'll surely lead me in some direction.
Do you I leave everything and everyone that has given me purpose thus far?
Is my purpose just to have  adventures? Or only in the mind?

I think I'll live my entire life wondering this.