There is a purpose to all things
Nothing was created with a reason
My eyes see, my ear hears,
My mouth speak, all things has a purpose

But its ironical many have lived
never discovering the purpose for their lives.
The graves has held stock
lots of potential that would
have benefited the world.

Many with solution to world's crisis
died without knowing...
Many born as king, died as slaves
its ironical that the concept of purpose is not understood.

The world is like a market square
everyone was sent here to buy and sell
but many have ended up
never buying nor selling
so have ran out of resources,
and are destitute of life.

Know this;
'the fact that you are born is evidence
that you possess something
that can benefit the world'.

by Ndubuisi Eke

Other poems of EKE (2)

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