The equilibrium of purpose

had this on my mind for a long time.

What is purpose,

and what is purposeful

to write a poem I wonder

who do I write for

because it definitely influences

what i write and how i write it.

What is the purest translation

of my feelings to words

how does one measure 

a work of art?

or even deeper is the question why

can we not experience anything

without judging it

can't we value what is there 

and forget what me make of it

or what it means to us

I think a great work of art 

is not one that can be interpreted

in a million ways,

but one that completely destroys thought

and brings the viewer into a state 

of absolution

where perception is killed

and purpose is thwart 

what is beautiful is lost in the word itself,

because our conscious is not truth

truth is truth, 

we cannot compare it to anything

the ultimate equilibrium is one where that doesn't exist

ironic huh.