Purpose

Feathers

We are like feathers

drifting through the sky

without purpose, or intention, meaning, nothing

as we drift along the invisible lines of space and time

colliding with other indistinguishable faces, 

quickly fading into our subconscious mind

 

Destined or am I not

just one of billions of passing faces along the steady stream of

my subconscious

Subconscious

thoughts used to keep me awake at night

when even the stars didn't seem to bother shedding any light

and I would wonder what was destiny

 

Who has a destiny?

And what if there wasn't;

what if we were formed from atomic particles and coincidentally just

happened

to breathe oxygen in a moving sphere of water, land, and gas

breathing in the life of a billion beings

singing songs that have been sung, time and time again

and calling once random strangers friends

and making a difference in other peoples' lives

and helping distant communities thrive

 

I am no longer kept awake at night

for I know that we are no 

coincidence

but wonderfully

beautifully

intelligently

created.

 

And for that reason

I know my purpose in life

as clear as a window pane that has been scrubbed clean,

all the dirt and filth and disgust of past has been redeemed

and I am special to Him who gives it to me:

My purpose.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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