A Question to be Answered

I often question my purpose.
A question proposed.
What is the quest I question?
For life is the purpose quest.
Like a top spinning
The headaches without decision.
What is decision, where is it made
A muzzled head, a wired up brain.
Or, in a phantom from another plain.
Life’s plan is made, then it fades.

The material body made of flesh,
The bones together creak, afresh
Ask the flesh, where is the rest.
The brain answers with the test,
I am thought, from whence is talk?
When this miraculous body walks?
Complicated facts work in the brain,
Emotion, intuition show another game.
Cross wires expire and I start again.

Has the dream grown forom a child,
Emotions burst and broken.
A study of the past, a new reign.
Fallen from the crest, a token
Of all the stories of old that came,
Some remembered and spoken
Good on earth, put others to shame
a round bowl full of devotion.