Unto What End
What is the point of going on,
is there something left to find?
Too many days of rise and fall
have left me far behind.
And what’s to gain in trying to feel
what I see others feel?
The only thing I feel these days
is that nothing is real.
I often sit and wonder
what the whole damn thing’s about,
when this life seems a pointless game
that’s ruled by fear and doubt.
Yet I admit there have been times
when everything was clear,
but no one else can understand
so, I’m alone I fear.
And so, I see through wanton eyes
and feel with hollow heart,
but something keeps me going on
start after faltered start.
Unto what end have I been born?
Deep down inside I know.
There’s something I’m suppose to be...
unto that end I’ll go.
