When I was little
Grandpa told me
the secret to success.
Little as I was
I old myself
to each their own.
Years later,
cowed behind a desk,
I wonder.
Purpose
Labor of the Heart
A labor of the heart
Is fickle for breaks time may yet impart;
Yet hearts all given up to labor
May find that flesh bears yet no flavor
Such that withered bones
Gilded on those rusted thrones
Reach evermore for other’s flames
To find the hearth within lies tamed.
No soul, within mortality leashed
Can ill afford to rush time’s feast.
Ours may yet be to wonder why,
But think too long and there you’ll lie.
Life’s purpose is the lurking feeling
That man must find his own life’s meaning.
Life and Purpose
Albert Camus, care of Wikimedia Commons.
“To lose one’s life is no great matter; when the time comes I’ll have the courage to lose mine. But what’s intolerable is to see one’s life being drained of meaning, to be told there’s no reason for existing. A man can’t live without some reason for living.”
~ Albert Camus
The Waking Den 