Leftovers
What is this very human peculiarity, this very human idiosyncrasy
For there to always to be meaning and purpose, always wanting it to be more than it is.
The addictive euphoria of imagination, imagining everything conceivable,
Takes the paradigm to an end entirely of its own making.
* * * *
Rest assured, the real You can never perish, for the real You were never born.
Only perceived by the naturally-selected evolution of imagination,
That can ever be more than witness to the essential nature,
To which it gives time, to which it gives space,
To which it gives meaning and purpose,
For an eternity which has nothing for anything imagined,
The mortal body is a but a chrysalis for eternity to blossom into nirvana.
* * * *
Does any other sentient being, on this spinning orb, or any other,
Require meaning and purpose to get through, to endure, its given existence?
The jury has left the building, on whether to gauge the human species illustrious or pathetic.
Imagination is source of all things, that have no harbor in pure sentience.
Awareness has no need of purpose, no need of meaning.
The timeless moment is ever fulfilled.
Soundbites
You want meaning and purpose? Maybe try looking over there.
* * * *
Meaning and purpose are imagination's delusional specialties.