What's It All About?

O there go the frenzied human parades; Shouting their hackneyed slogans in the rain! For what purpose? To prove they're alive I guess. Or to prove they're 'special' and not like the rest. I often wonder what life's really about. As my mind is plagued by myriad doubts. At times, only poetry's flow makes sense, Or phrases of ironical intent. I'm still drawn to obscure mysteries, That cold, rootless science cannot really Grasp or indeed explain. I prefer art That still hints at the secrets of the heart. I'm increasingly drawn to feathered silence. For that's where I discover sweet asylum. These days I do my upmost to avoid The faux joy of aimless crowds. O they're buoyed By their gadgets and toys. But they're not for me. I'd rather make use of time creatively.