Ambiguity of Purpose

He, the Sun, calls our awakening

And every here and now He departs

Is there something he is doing-cunning?

It seems His doing his ambiguous

There is Dawn, there is Dusk

He rises, He sets

Am I the only one to question

This universal truth?

Am I the only one to curse-

The being within us?

Our sorrows and joys beckon

And retire between our hours

But why? Have you guessed?

Whilst thee drains the soul

Amidst the mourn

Shalt the soul be under Safe Haven?

The boulders and beasts in our venture

Have been fought and frowned upon

But for what purpose? Did you know?

Does it? Does it even have a purpose?

Maybe a mere joy or utter satisfaction

Or perhaps neither at all

Isn't it miraculous you are breathing-

Today, once ago and mostly on the 'morrow

After such joyous and horrific rides

That might have and did cleanse our souls?

For the better? For the worse?

Reputation flaps her wings against

The cold air, flying miles

To be at your side, yours

But why did She have to disappear

Within a fraction of a second?

Thee must once take upon the call-

The departing call

For the lovers cannot accept the time-

The time of death

But was it- was it?

Worth the downfall?

Curiosity seeks purpose

But does purpose ever seek curiosity?

Are our questions ever answered?

Or are the answers ever genuine?

Is there really a God?

What I am writing- even worthy?

Sprint your farthest

Paint a picture

Then maybe, maybe, you shall seek

Your inner purpose

But then again

Was it ever- is this ever-

Meant to be?

-Nalini Rajeev


Your poem rambles badly; it has no consistent form or purpose, and no internal rhythm. It is just a gathering of existential complaints.

Nalini RajeevWhat I am writing- even worthy?

Probably not.