What is it?
Still obscure, still unseen,
I'm yet to find,
To search and to discover
If life has any purpose
And I mean
My life -
Not that one of another.
So many worthy goals!
And thousands of worthless...
I'm overwhelmed,
I'm humbled,
I'm ashamed...
And I admire those
Who made their choices
And God forbid
To be the one who claimed
They had a purpose
While their life was empty -
Full stomach and some fun
The only goal
What are good deeds?
And how to manage plenty?
At least enough
To save my wretched soul...
What is it? Still obscure...
© Copyright: Элиза Микаилова, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111081501424
Свидетельство о публикации №111081501424
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