Mercy

What if life were not futile —
If it held a meaning, a purpose
Would it be more worth living
If there were an end goal
To strive toward

What would it be like to live
In a world where everyone knew
The meaning and purpose
Of their brief
Limited lives

Would there not be a rush —
A quiet panic — to arrive
At that fixed place
Of success and significance
Where worth was achieved
Meaning fulfilled

Would there not be sorrow —
Deep and unspeakable —
For those who fall short
And cruelty, too —
As some trample others
Just to reach
Their goal

Is it not strange, then
That those who speak of futility
Are called negative —
While those who preach purpose
Are praised as positive
As bringers of hope

When all the havoc
Is wrought by those
Who believe —
With righteous certainty —
In meaning and purpose

Is futility, then
Not another name
For mercy —
That gives all
Equally
Nothing whatsoever

And vanity — meaning —
But a denial
Of the futility
The mercy —
Of it all