Re:Purpose
Bearing no small hope nor grander desire
Man will cease to be but destination;
To emptiness, to an unknown fire;
Thou art a ghost of a machination
Without the electricity of the dreams
Without the storm of feverish thinking
A man becomes undone at rotting seams
A ship decayed, punctured, and now sinking.
Shells, devoid of life, echo the sea's waves
Such is a person equally empty
Full of counterfeit sound; lying in graves
Drawing breath but just breathing absently
For a man without a path to follow
Will find himself nothing more than hollow.
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