Unto What End

What is the point of going on,

is there something left to find?

Too many days of rise and fall

have left me far behind.

 

And what’s to gain in trying to feel

what I see others feel?

The only thing I feel these days

is that nothing is real.

 

I often sit and wonder

what the whole damn thing’s about,

when this life seems a pointless game

that’s ruled by fear and doubt.

 

Yet I admit there have been times

when everything was clear,

but no one else can understand

so, I’m alone I fear.

 

And so, I see through wanton eyes

and feel with hollow heart,

but something keeps me going on 

start after faltered start.

 

Unto what end have I been born?

Deep down inside I know.

There’s something I’m suppose to be…

unto that end I’ll go.