Unneeded Answer

Looking out the window, to the cars rustling past and to the monument standing still - is there anything else to this world?

To exist anonymously and be grateful for that existence - to whom do we offer praises?

Love and happiness in their purest forms are simple yet they remain elusive, ungraspable even - are we to blame or the universe?

Going round in circles, I want to stop seeking answers where only uncertainty is clear.

I surrender the act of looking for meaning.
There may be one.
There may be none.

"May" is the only thing definite.

So, to hope or to not hope is mine to make.