When you make a wish
what is your hearts’ desire?
What do you tell yourself
so you can survive another day?
The pain is so unbearable
it seems to never end
Do you ever wonder
why you were given this struggle?
Why is this your path to endure
The mind is full and blank
all at once,
     Do you know what kind of havoc that reeks?
A sharp, emptiness in your soul
to relive the void that you serve no real purpose
other than to occupy a space.
Do you know your worth?
Do you even understand what that means?
This never ending cycle
   Wake up
      Serve
        Survive
          No rest
              Repeat
Watching life from a far
Standing still, in what seems like forever
Glory days are not behind you
Yet, they do not seem ahead of you either
    Forgotten
      Lost
Scribbled off the milk carton
Missing:
  your place in this mere existence
Tears fall like flooding rains on the inside
a halfhearted smile
for all the world’s a stage...

Could it be, that the ineffectiveness
of our prayers are directly linked to
the poor motivations… of our hearts?
Are we in pursuit of genuine holiness

and a relationship, with The One, Who
made the Heavens and the Earth? Can we
overcome ourselves and rise up as His
Children? Our Faith and Salvation, do

not relate to our personal actions; we
are saved by His Grace alone; the good
works, we perform, are an outward sign
of our love for Him. When will we see,

that we’re nothing… without Him? When
we strive, to understand, the truest
purpose of prayer, our spiritual eyes
are gradually opened before Him; then

we can see… our identity in Christ!

the shadows the sun cast when it rises,
way beyond down
there I am

stuck as a soul can be on a plane not meant for the unsure,
I grab onto other souls who know what to do with their existence,
and ask, is this for me too?

no, no
it doesn't feel right
breathing here doesn't feel right
every breath feels forced, just to survive, because i need to.
but they breathe because they've found it

the purpose of their souls,


I think mine was lost.

People playing out time.
They work all day
Doing mundane jobs.
Passively watch the telly
And play on their mobile phones.
Week in week out:
Same routine,
With the odd break.

So what is The Purpose
Of all this?
We have our struggles and strifes,
Our glorious wins –
All forgotten once we go.
Generation follows generation,
Each an essay
At the game of Life.
So I ask again,
What is The Purpose?
I've asked this most of my life.

All I can say,
Scratching my head,
Is that we are here just
To Appreciate
The Beauty
Of our Universe,
This World we call “Earth”
And all that Mother Nature
Creates.

We must meditate on this
And make more music.
Listen to our Muses
Then sing, paint, write, sculpt
Or whatever Art
We care
To flow
From our souls.
Amen.

Paul Butters

© PB 1\4\2018.

Is there meaning in the madness?
The careless moments strung together like broken Christmas lights inside a cave
The moments that ***** your fingers and draw unwelcome blood
The madness that you rage against inside your chest

Most days, yes
I say as a soliloquy, sipping my tea and watching the passing storm clouds
My eyes are wet but my heart has dried
Opened up and beating forth.
But today, I don’t think so
I can’t bring myself to say yes
For I am emblazoned in a firestorm
All consuming
There is only hurt –
And doubt –
And loss –
And isolation –
My eyes are no longer stinging
They are burning
Almost bleeding
Today I can’t blink away the shadows

This madness is finding me
Entwining me
And, at times, defining me
As I remain motionless trapped in the endless webs
Searching through crowds of strangers to find myself
And turning up empty every time.

It’s always fascinated me
how every single cell in our bodies
works so hard
to keep us alive
you could say
that they love you
and care about you
but that’s not true
they have no sentience
no will
but they have a mission
a purpose
which is more than some people have
and it’s almost an honor
when you think about
how these trillions of cells
have the same purpose:
to help you