Purpose

Do you not hear it? The soothing sound of eternal strings,
They play for you... and to all other great things,
Do you not see it? The inevitable fall of eternal kings,
They fall to you... and to the life that a fall brings.

Do you not smell it? The smell of skies crying rain,
They cry for you... droplets to wash away searing pain,
Do you not taste it? Bitter victories of the so called sane,
They died for you... giving you a fate, a destiny, a name.

Can you not reach it? The grip-less handle of the prize,
They shackle you... depriving you of levitation to arise,
Can you not try it? The freedom of living your true guise,
They unmask you... those whose silence flows to wise eyes.

Can you not sense it? The numbification of screams,
They call out to you... and to the numbifiers of dreams,
Can you not stand it? Sets of words emitting truth gleams,
They evaporate you... boiling points of lies and truth steams.

What do you feel? If there is nothing to fear,
What do you say? If there is nothing to hear.

What do you view? If there is nothing to see,
What do you do? If there is no one to free.



Writer's notes:
Destiny... fate... kings... heroes... lies... truth... sensation... history... life itself.
What is it that binds mental impulsions and principles to this physical world?
What is it that makes this world so physically mental? or so mentally physical?
Is there even a difference?

The end of the poem speaks of purpose.
Not the exact purpose, but what a purpose really is...
Is purpose a physical event? A set of physical events?
Is it more of a mental morality or even an essence of instinct?
Can purpose serve multiple goals? Or does purpose ultimate that multiplicity and turn it into one single objective to be achieved?

Is purpose destiny itself?