I refuse to accept the fact that we do not have a purpose.
You expect me to believe that the sun doesn't shine for us?
You expect me to believe that the trees produce oxygen, or that or bodies work so magnificently, or that we have created so much for ourselves for nothing?
That existence was a coincidence?
I will never know, that's a truth I'll have to face. But I'm no fool, and the moon will always rise, and my purpose will always shine through.
YOU ARE READING
An endless abyss
PoetryJust some poems and thoughts, nothing too important. Just read if you want to I guess. This will probably all be extremely cringy in years to come but for the time being I think that they're ok.
