When will the winds finally reach its destination, what then? Will we ever be satisfied in this world of plenty? What is the end goal? 

We make so much and in the end take nothing at all. Who is responsible for my life and am I responsible for someone else’s ? This chasm that separates man from animal, what is the real difference? We are born just as they are, we live, procreate and are gone. Just they as do. We tremble down on others to survive the systems that govern the globe. We put ourselves above them simply because we can choose our destination. A world full of imbalance is this. Nothing more than this is it? But love. Unique. Heals or kills is this love. Millions are a friend and foe to this love. What makes us special is this love. So, what is the end goal?

This poem is about: 
Our world


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