Or maybe the whole purpose is to simply feel.
Feel the air, heat, pavement, pain, rain, life.
There is no perfection to creation,
experience is what we call life.
Now it may be ours or others’
and we mould it with our personal touch.
Maybe the whole purpose is to simply feel
everything that is happening, all too much!
Who knows what is to be or not to be done
because the wise elect to disappear or go quiet.
Maybe that is the whole purpose, undone.
Mind of the peaceful knows of riot.
The Poet and the Pen 