Perhaps no explanation or poetry at all would suffice for our existence,

Perhaps we are just mere particles born to be diminished and regenerated into new ones.

They say that one must fulfill the purpose of their existence.

Perhaps we are not born with a purpose,

Perhaps that purpose is our destiny that is not written on any stone.

Perhaps we are just in the shadows of a new light waiting to shine,

For nothing is permanent,

And perhaps our destiny and our purpose are determined by our own instinctual actions and creating.

But the author must take caution for she is writing in pen and mistakes cannot be erased.



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