The Search for the Purpose

What is our purpose?

What is out drive?

Are we ants on the sidewalk, crawling all over the treat that is our reason?

Are we the sidewalk where everything stands?

Were we sent here to love our neighbors?

Or fight our strangers?

Are we all just lying in a hospital bed until our heart-rate monitor lulls us to sleep?

Are we just pieces on a chessboard?

Are we nothing more than our pawns?

Are we truly the constant masturbation to bullshit fairy tales that society shoves down our throats?

Are we a soul-less Suicide Nation?

Were we born to start the timer?

Or prolong the inevitable?

Were we sent here as the sons and daughters of sin itself? Bent to drive this country, this world, into Armageddon?

Do we lean on the pills and excuses and sex and our scapegoats in order to lay the blame on someone that doesn’t matter?

Or in our effort to forget… did we create and defend the means of our own destruction?

Were we sent here as puppets on the grand stage of our miseries?

Are we actors in soap operas that will only end the second we get bored and change the channel?

Are we here to conform and distort, conform and distort until the final product is as fucked up and dilapidated as the sick plot to create it?

Maybe we were, but maybe the answers are right in front of us. Maybe we’ve become too blind and absent-minded to truly grasp the true purpose.

But we can still guess, and I point to our maker…

The way that I see it, we are all of these things…

The purpose of life is to pull further from God