[Poetry] Purpose

Why do I struggle to breathe, when breath comes easy?
Why do I struggle to see, when my sight is complete?
Why do I struggle to think, when my mind is intact?
Why do I fight to live, when life is still extant?

A flower lives for a second, falls off to let fruit bear.
Yet the life that allows blooming, is measured in years.
What beauty it gives, yet not the focus.
The beauty so needed, to carry the locus.

Some things come easily, some explained.
The lives we lead, sometimes is plain.
But as we struggle, to seek meaning amid strife,
We sometimes miss, the meaning of life.

Life is complete, when touching others.
A flower, though small, a blessing to show us.
A delight, a joy, a purpose of imagery.
For the important, small goal, of serving progeny.

What matters isn’t the size of our living.
What matters instead, is how much we’re giving.
In caring, in loving, as God has loved us first,
We learn what matters, is how we will serve.

When lost in the middle of counting our losses,
we risk losing our sight, comparing our wishes.
Step instead, into giving our best,
And perhaps, we’ll see a way out of the mess.

I don’t know how soon I’ll be able to breathe,
To eat, to sing, to make merry release,
As I keep on, keeping on, seeking my purpose,
I know, only, that I’m not really worthless.

To start serving, giving, helping with others,
As much a service as I’m seeking calm waters.
I’m not brave, courageous, strong, or fine.
I’m just seeking, a way for my mind.

I hope one day, the path will indeed straighten.
Instead of being lost, I’ll find safe haven.
I’ll see clearer, the path that is mine,
While never forgetting, this jungle behind.

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