drifting

drifting

-- grace

drifting, drifting

like driftwood in the waves

like dandelions to the wind

like a human to life

drifting 

searching

seeking

what is there to find?

life is short

fleeting

we are mere houseflies—

less—

in the timeline of things

we live

we breathe

we eat

we sleep

repeat

each day passes us by

each year passes us by

the markers of time 

by the wrinkles,

the streaks of white,

the changes in the people

we love

and to dust

we become

easily we live

struggle we may

breathe we must

the purpose of life

and like animals in the kingdom

we must fight for our survival

like trees in the jungle

we fight for our room to grow

in the process we throttle others

then we tangle each other

so,

tell me,

what is

the purpose of life?