Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2014
Players on a wide open stage,
we are all characters in a story
old as time.
Passing faces all hold meaning,
full of history, past
and opportunity, future.
Complete lives, deeper than our own;
yet we dismiss them.
Nation boundaries are ink on a page.
There is no difference from one to another;
we are all human.
In our souls, we all seek the same concept:
A reason.
It feels like madness for a purpose
to just simply not exist.
Consciousness lusts for a justification.
The pain, blood, death;
love, joy, hope, and
dreams, all beg the question:
"Why?"
Weighty to accept, the void.
The sheer lack of answers.
Religion, careers, economics,
physics, psychology;
all of it invented to attempt,
to try as hard as we can
to find a reason.
As always, the smallest moments
hide the largest truths.
Every person experiences it,
though they may not understand.
The reason for us,
for life,
is plain, unconcealed for all to see.
Every religious fanatic;
every businessman;
every politician, scientist,
drug dealer, bank robber,
terrorist;
every person has a moment
where eyes lock as they pass
on the street.
And they understand in just
that tiny moment.
The reason we live is us.
It is other humans.
Relationships; love.
Our exploration of everything,
the wide, beautiful universe
together.
There is no other reason.
There is no need for one.
Written by
Rob M
731
   Pushing Daisies
Please log in to view and add comments on poems