Maybe we all exist
only to inflict pain
on the ones that we care
the most about, without
even being aware;
maybe we all exist
only to light the sky
and fill each other’s dreams.
Neither one seems true. From
these desert years, it seems
maybe we all exist
to each other only
when we chance through the sieve
which asks our heart for “yes”
where it can only give
“maybe.” We all exist
firstly to be ourselves;
willing to stand alone
and trust our heart’s desire
to plumb their own unknown.
Penguin Poems 
This is a beautiful meditation. So thankful that *you* exist.
Thoughts worth pondering. Esp like the sieving the heart image–all too true.
I do think there's a higher purpose for our existence.
A very beautiful piece.Reminds me of George Harrison's "Isn't It a Pity".Great work here.
Who knows, thoughts to ponder indeed. But we exist until the maybe are no more and we are buried forever more.
And maybe you exist to write … this is wonderful musing in my view … lovely
Very nice reflections…still a mystery to me until now ~
this def reads like a meditation…i think in knowing ourselves we begin to really be able to give to others…you know…
The clarity of statement, moving from maybes to risky assertion makes the work very well. Your statements come across so well in the lines, simply stated, felt with a refelective rhythm, easing us into the realization at the end. I agree that much of what we call love is probably projection of ourselves onto others, so the final stanza makes a lot of sense to. It's a very powerful ending, resonating not as ubermensch roar of self-reliance but a vulnerable recognition of existence.
I'm with Buddah. 😉
Philosophical, yet not at all preachy. "…when we chance through the sieve/which asks our heart for 'yes'/where it can only give/'maybe'" is probably my favorite line. As for your heart's desire, if you have not found it yet, wait – it will catch up with you! Peace, Andrew. Amyhttp://sharplittlepencil.com/2012/03/06/rich-men-suck-dverse/