Shadow of Becoming

Purpose

What is purpose? this fleeting thought,
A question sought, yet seldom caught.
Is it the work, the goals we chase,
Or simply finding our own space?

Is it the love we give and share,
Or the courage to stand and dare?
Perhaps it's hidden deep inside,
In the quiet moments we can't hide.

To live is more than breathing air,
It's feeling life, it's being there.
It's waking up with something true,
A dream to chase, a world to view.

It's rising after every fall,
And hearing the voice that calls,
To be the best we can become,
Not perfect, but a beating drum.

Purpose isn't something you find,
It's shaped by heart, and love, and mind.
It's not a destination clear,
But the path we walk year after year.

In every tear, in every smile,
In the moments that are worthwhile,
Purpose grows in the soil of time,
Not given, but built, line by line.

It's not in the fame or wealth we gain,
But in the truth that remains.
In the quiet acts of kindness shown,
In the seeds of hope we've sown.

Purpose is living with intent,
A journey that's never truly spent.
It's not about what we acquire,
But the love that fuels our inner fire.

To live with purpose is to embrace,
Each breath we take, each step we face.
It's loving others, and ourselves,
And seeking peace in all that dwells.

Purpose is knowing why we're here,
And carrying that truth, sincere.
It's a story written in our hearts,
A song that plays through all our parts.

For purpose is not a singular thing,
It's woven through what we bring.
It's in the moments shared, the touch,
The simple things that mean so much.

To live with purpose is to grow,
To learn, to give, to let love flow.
It's in the journey, not the end,
In the lives we touch, in the hands we lend.