A Life Of No Purpose Poem by Boledi R Petja

Maybe a life without purpose is not empty because nothing exists in it, but because too much has been postponed. Maybe it feels useless not because there is nothing inside it, but because everything meaningful is still waiting for permission to begin. Maybe the weight does not come from failure, but from standing too long at the edge of becoming something and never stepping forward. Perhaps what we call hopelessness is only the exhaustion of trying to believe in futures that never arrived. Perhaps motionless is just the name we give to fear when it convinces us that stillness is safer than risk. And maybe the pain of no direction is not proof of worthlessness, but proof that the heart still wants movement. We are not broken because we feel lost. We are human because we want more than survival. We breathe through old wounds because we once dreamed. We look ahead with aching eyes because we still expect something better. And the blur of the "how" is not a dead end. It is the fog that appears right before the road reveals itself. Maybe purpose is not found in certainty, but in choosing to walk even when the path refuses to explain itself.