Tag: purpose

570. What Was All Of It For?

As we grow older, we wonder,

What was all of it for?

Is there some rhyme or reason,

For all that comes before?

Astute men throughout the ages,

Have made many a claim;

Though what’s the use in guessing,

When no one’s lived the same?

Are experiences naught more,

Than sense and memory?

Which float and flutter inside,

‘Til souls, from the world, flee?

Will anything be learned or changed?

Will all we are be lost?

If all that pain was for nothing,

Was it not then, too high a cost?

As we grow older, we wonder,

What was all of it for?

Is there some rhyme of reason,

For all that comes before?

Though ev’rything has it’s season,

Aren’t we left as incomplete lore?

When here on earth there is no road,

That leads through another soul’s door?

K. Aldaya, 1/13/22

Picture: By: Ilya Shishikhin on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/-K7yvsDvj2g

470. It’s Only Fair

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They say that life,…it isn’t fair.

That the best of us die young;

And men who live until old age,

Still die with songs unsung.

Yet tears give life to the Earth,

And the dead find a place to lie.

You raped me, but it’s alright;

‘Cause I,… I watched you die.

It’s said that there is a plan,…

Some meaning to it all.

Yet I find it hard to sleep at night,

As people rise and fall.

Will anyone remember you?

Will they laugh or will they cry?

You raped me, and it’s not alright,

Yet I…, maybe I should feel glad,…

For I,…I watched you die.

Did the angels ever get to fly or is it just a tale,

Told by early men who died by both monster and sail?

I do not know much of it,

Though I fear it’s all comforting lie.

Those who hurt, rape, and kill,…

One day they too will die.

Is death the great equalizer?

In death is all made right?

Will the criminals and the victims,

Go together toward the light?

All men are born victims,

And even criminals cry;

And even though you hurt me,

I didn’t want you to die.

K. Aldaya, 3/24/19

Picture: Original Source Unknown; http://favim.com/image/356563/

440. Presence

We reach out for purpose,

Cutting through time like a knife.

Surveying each step with elation,

As if God’s creating life.

Are we more than rotting thoughts,

And orbiting electrons in atoms?

If I stand still or take one more step,

Will it really change any outcomes?

I want to believe in more than this.

In more than my petty musings.

Yet, despite my wish for my words to remain,

I can’t cease their death by refusing.

If I write, or walk, or take a step,

Or if I choose to protest.

There will still be something there to lose,

Whether idle or over-obsessed.

So, I reach out for purpose,

Whether it cuts me in it’s course;

For despite my ruminations,

Presence is an unstoppable force.

K. Aldaya, 5/22/18

Picture: Original Source Unknown; http://keywordsuggest.org/gallery/129704.html

39. Each of Us

img-thing

Here I sit through window glazing,

Watching the world flowing; blazing.

Each passerby is on their way to what they are to do today.

Each person has a mission and purpose,

To their movements; discretions; fuss.

Each as important as the other,

To a ‘God’ one’s not more loved than another.

Each person a soul; life; influence.

A cog in the clock of time; in a sense.

Each so important to this world of ours.

Treat each not as if they’re from Mars.

Treat as you yourself would like,

Each elder, adult, teen, and tike.

They are a piece of this world too,

So watch what, to others, you may do.

K. Aldaya, 2/23/04

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=17332719