The Purpose

The Purpose

So I sit in bed all day wondering
What the fuck the point is
Of getting up.
What I find in the world
Never is sunshine.

When the wagons of hate
Encircle you, when
The cars of greed
Hit you
What's the point of
Getting up?

I feel all I can do is contemplate, so
I contemplate the light above,
And naturally, find nothing.
I contemplate the human condition
Misery.
I contemplate the purpose, or
Seeming lack thereof.

But,
The purpose is to work to
Make a difference, anything.
To know someone has breathed easier
Because you've lived, because you
Acted, that is to have lived, that
Is a complete life.
Whether you mend broken hearts,
Feed the hungry or shelter the homeless
Or just hold someone's hand.
The purpose, the real purpose
Is compassion.
Even if you don't make a huge impact.
Something's better than nothing.