The Fading Why

In silent rooms where shadows creep, And hollow echoes softly sleep, I watch the dust motes dance and fall, And wonder, what's the point in all? A fleeting joy, a whispered breath, Then sudden silence, stark as death. We build, we strive, we yearn, we chase, For what? A temporary space. The laughter fades, the tears run dry, Beneath an indifferent, endless sky. Connections forged, then torn apart, Leaving an aching, empty heart. Is purpose just a story told, To keep the restless from the cold? A fragile hope, a guiding star, That vanishes to where you are? This heavy shroud, this weary sigh, To live, to suffer, and to die. The meaning lost, the vision blurred, A question hangs, unheard, unworded. What's the point in us living? Why?