The Thinker

When I stop to think, I realize that on the larger scale We are meaningless. So meaningless. As meaningless as the life we all lead, Doing menial tasks working menial jobs In a world where we are just a pawn On the chessboard of life. We are smaller pieces in a game so large, So large that the loss of one person is overshadowed By the greater shift of good and evil in the world. Yet at the same time the world is small. Small enough for one person to make a difference, As in each pawn lies the potential to be a bishop, A rook, a knight, a queen. Each pawn can be anything it desires If it desires so badly enough. And as I lay on the lawn thinking about all of this, A car passes by, and I think to myself, A car is just a way to get us from one place to another, Simply a means of transportation. And then I continued to think to myself, Maybe this life is just a means of transportation, And it's taking us on a journey, like a road trip, With the final destination unknown. Traveling to find ourselves and who we are, Seeking the meaning that we are missing. Searching for our purpose in life. And as I lay on the grass enveloped in thought, My phone rang. A caller whose number I didn't recognize. And at that exact moment I stumbled upon the answer I sought: I may not know exactly who I am, Or why I am here, Or why I do the things that I do, But there is one things that I do realize: I think too much.