For what purpose can this poor soul carry this burden?
Living a life so devoid of meaning or truth!
Can there be any worthy justification for this suffering?
The madness that lurks beneath the mask that is he
For whom shall this wretched existence live for?
Who might somehow take this agony away?
There is no one who can contain his suffering!
Only a face of falsehood to steal the evidence
In the midst of others he too can mask the pain
The ignorance of the masses provides temporary relief
But before long the truth overwhelms him
This feigned happiness was naught but a dream!
This lone pilgrim is on a never-ending journey
To find a sacred truth that cannot exist
To fulfill a dream that must not come to be!
Is there anything that can end this torture?
A nomad of timeless beauty untold
The mask a mere sample of the savage within
Nothing can provide satisfaction to this wretched soul!
What meaning is there in a life where naught can satisfy?
Is there any hope for a person without purpose?
Surely not, for without purpose there can be no meaning!
Hope must indeed be nothing but an illusion to this man!
Without a purpose or hope, all he has, all he lives for is Wanderlust!
To seek the unfindable, to become the unthinkable, to inspire the unknowable
The Wanderlust may provide sustenance to others, but cannot feed himself
Forever he must wander in a purgatory of his own creation
To his own eternal demise