Purposed reasons

My days, my months, my years . . .
They come with ups and donns
I’m searching for the meaning
I do not know

My days are trying to tell me
They speak their language
I’m searching for the meaning
I do not know


Quietly, calmly, they whispered
Hard, closely I approached
To listen what they’re saying
They said, “purposed reasons, son”

They speak to a clean heart
Open mind, honesty are their mates
For everythind, they said . .
“there are always purposed reasons”