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Where did we come from

did we exist

before the world was born

and the dirt

felt the first kiss of the sun

these are the question marks

that we scratch

onto the walls of our lives

who are we

do we have any more value

than the earth we are standing on

are we, fatherless souls

looking for someone to call us son

these are the question marks

that we scribble onto scrap paper

and then toss the trash into the corners of our minds

where we hope that no one will see what we’ve written

even though everyone is asking themselves the same things

what is the purpose of our lives

where are we going when the sand

in our hourglass reaches an end

are questions the only thing we will leave behind

or do we believe that the truth is out there

for us to find