The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. ~Vladimir Nabakov

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Why am I?

Murmurs of doubt searching for this why
Forever subjective so must be living a lie

Purpose of my life residing in this existence
Who is living inside me jolting in persistence?

Never do I settle for any second-best hand
Yet always sewing new seeds on frozen land?

How do I inhabit this being blindly averse?
While existence resides in all vastly diverse

At last peaceful warrior emerges within
Gasping for air and cannot breathe in

Famished like an animal a relative of a shark
Why be quiet if able to release words so stark?

Disbelieving to my visions questioning why
Surrendering to outcomes of live and die?

Razor sharp wire firmly entangles this heart
How come lifeline bracelet keeps falling apart?

Why is life so steadily focused on themes?
Enquiry of why peeks beyond mortal dreams

Who has needs for fire, earth, air and water?
Hoarding these skills we never fully scatter

Reality pure and candid as the whitest dove
Ideally fitting ones body as the perfect glove

Yet with a slam-dunk fact, a slap in the face
Never meaning to cause one ache or disgrace

Oblivious to who it fits continues seeking thy
Who resides in the former to fulfill the why?

Relishing and savouring in a journey of life
Why is my human vessel labelled as wife?

Questioning everything from stars and moon
Yet knowing somehow we will be there soon

This gallantly driven exit we purposely need
Is this why we are created to expire and bleed?

Why are we desperately so vacant and forget?
Living in fixed dimension of actions then regret
Who was this body that which was left behind?
Am I reborn with a duty and was I ever unkind?

And why am I covered with my neighbours skin?
While beneath is this being so identically akin

Ah, another headache I get while I write to ask
Though with a mission to convey another task

I ponder and wish upon these dazzling stars
To heal and alleviate my living human scars

Misunderstood and judged though I do not mind
Yet why pursue with a drive and even be kind?

The pain of this mortality does bite with a sting
As I am hushed and confined to a special wing

How can I be insane hearing all these voices?
Confirmed visions never do alter my choices

Hushed and drugged to hide but the reality
Purpose and meaning of this human identity

Who are we to coexist breathing cosmic dust?
While teased and tempted by flavours of lust

Walking then running still we are seeking why
Knowing for certain our hidden wings could fly

Though fly I am unable to do these requests
Divine commands dormant within me rest

Probing the undoubted echoes of cry
For why are they cloaked under a lie?
Hiding behind shrouds resembling why
These questions inside me dwell and die

Who the hell am I kidding, only on my part?
From end back to beginning all over I start

Why have a glimpse at this distrusted heaven?
Whose validation figures are aligned so even?

And what is the purpose of this ravaging hell?
How am I ever to spill and this humanity tell

Why do I ever begin these questions of start?
I am so drowsy tired and asleep I want to part

A life not remembered only legends remain
How skills and deeds flaw our soul with stain

Voices get louder as the lights get brighter
The question of why soars higher then high

With purpose we are back to deliver and solve
While countless alongside us continue to evolve

And although I am invisible to the human eye
My purpose exists within these beings that lie

While these questions remain upon my return
For who, how, when and at last still why am I?

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