I fear it is only the dead that truly know of life’s intricate meaning.
Those lost souls must pity us as we pity them.
For the living, life’s secrets are story tale fables.
Yet, these fables hold infinite truth that we are cursed never to partake of.
Amusing almost that lost souls pity the living.
For we search and search, sadly always in vain;
A fool’s errand it seems.
In the same light we scorn the nomadic inhabitants.
For there is no peace or rest for an eternally drifting soul.
It is said that, there is no faith so bleak than to roam earth without aim or cause.
Whether as beings or lost souls.
We search aimlessly for love and some purpose.
Searching for the meaning of our existence.
It is a cynical cruel blow that life mysteries are only revealed
When our bodies can no longer find them or use.
Thus I pray ye spirits and beings alike
Abandon this journey for eternal happiness and sacred peace for the unrest.
For this treacherous journey can only produce sorrow and grief.
Instead take comfort that your piteous faith may only last for an eternity.
Pray for an eternity and not a day more.
For there must be an end.
A utopia for the lost.
Where you’re past, present and future is one.
There must be some hope.
Life’s sealed lips must reveal at least one of its harrowed mysteries.
If such a fate is not true, then life has no purpose.
Beings and wandering souls alike will forever be lost.
If no such fate then surely…
Surely we are all doomed….