Why am I still alive?

Why does my heart still beat for love?

Has it been tortured enough?

these erratic questions rotting the mind;

how can you crave such passion

when life itself has trampled our lives for many years,

I'm just trying to make sense of it all.

while in the midst of my thoughts I feel conflicted;

Why keep fighting for something we can't see?

Then life switches the script;

love enters, and then there's meaning.

How random can life itself be?

For now, there is the meaning and this tortured heart

is healed with the insight of what was unseen with the eyes

but captured with the heart.