Purpose

There is a purpose.
We.
To each other.
Here.
With life given blessed to serve.
And...
Done to do to appreciate it deserved.
Knowing to show it known.
We.
With life given blessed to get.
Means more than having the ability,
To live entitled to purchase things.
Done to believe,
We can demean others to perceive...
Those without.
Are less than human beings.
When eventually this thought to keep,
Will prove.
Anguish to feel it and suffering is not,
A random affect.
That comes to touch all of our hearts.
Regardless.
Who acquires what to have.
To address and impress,
For the meaningless purpose to expect...
Themselves unaffected and immuned.
From a pain that leaves a mind wounded.
Hopeless seeking to cure what endures.
No one can.
Or will ever achieve that kind of power!
No one.
Deluded to fiction is excluded,
From a sorrow inflicted to permit it done!
No one!