For What Do We Exist?

What is the meaning of life?

Why do we try so hard when, after all, we are still specks of cosmic dust?

All these end when we draw our final breath, so why

Do we live?

When after all we have created our own environment 

Discarded nature 

Outlived our purpose of survival 

Disregarded the animal instinct 

Cramped ourselves into those small office cubicles in the concrete jungle 

When on the other end of the globe, they have barely any life in them 


For whom does the bell tolls?


Out Of

My existence.
How futile my soul
If I had one.

My body.
An empty bottle
Brimmed full with tears.

My position.
Out of place
And out of time.

Where do I tread?
Where do I belong?
Where do I fall on?

This arrows shoots Nowhere
Nowhere is where I’ve gone.