Proposed Purpose

Contemplating infinity.
A universe known and unknown.
Worlds surround the world,
And we float onward.
The astral veil
Covers the unseen.
Countless wanderers mirror our home.
Do they have a destination?
To what end soar the comets,
The suns, the galaxies?
Is their destiny simply to exist and expire?
Is there no greater purpose
Than to live and to die?
The infinitesimally small
Ponders its place in limitless space.
A fluke, a chance, pure circumstance.
This is what is said to be.
Live your life and be done with it.
Do we accept?
Or take exception?
Dare we dream that we are something more
Than the universe's bastard orphan?
Can it be that humanity
Is more than a category?
Did no one want us?
Did nothing intend us?
Or are we the unique piece of the universe?
I say: we are not an accident.
We are not an anomaly.
We were meant to be.
Children playing in a giant mansion,
Barely comprehending our inheritance.
Swinging on the chandelier of space,
Sliding down the bannister of gravity,
We await ownership
Of the house of God.