Not knowing why I am on this journey I move continually forward, never able to return from whence I have come.

One moment spent is never to be recaptured.   Drifting always forward being carried out by the tide of life.

No way to return to the safety of the shore.  Slowly heading into the unknown with no thought of what lies ahead.

There are moments that have been so rewarding I have committed them to memory, so I may look back on them.

Others, glad that they have passed and even though they brought pain and misery they all cut and shaped who I am.

Like an iceberg, so little of the person is revealed.  Most lies hidden deep within the depths of their ocean soul.

Moving alone and letting the waters slowly melt away the time I have to spend here while searching always.

Relentlessly looking and trying to understand the journey.  Sometimes caught in the task of just existing.

Looking at the lives around me, I wonder if their voyage has the same purpose, or if our trip is for different reasons.

If we are making this journey to accomplish a goal or task then are some lives here just to make heroes of others.

The child that dies of hunger, a short trip on the sea of life.  What was his purpose for being?

The soldier who dies in battle is both honored and hated depending on who is remembering him.

A few lives are capable of altering the future for many.  Why do some lives make this impact and others do not.

Similarities in our courses but none exactly the same. Are some lives portraits of man's worst examples?

Others the illustration of the goals we strive to achieve.  What of those whose greatest task is just surviving?

Is being a survivor the key to this journey?  If it is, why then does each life end in the loss of the final battle.

Death hardly seeming like a reward for existing and enduring the many hardships of life.

If death is a reward, then is life a punishment?  As there is equality in the fact that death comes to each of us.

How is it that some embrace life, struggle through the cruelties of disease to remain just days, hours longer?

All these things I ponder on my lonely journey, wanting to make the most of it, yet questioning the reason for it.

Can one really do a good job of living if they do not know the purpose of their existence?

It is normal to question the lives and actions of others but since we have no map to follow is it fair to judge them?

No matter how many lives I interact with on this voyage the trip is still mine and mine alone.

Since I drift through time by myself then the choices and decisions I make must be acceptable to me.

Moving ever forward towards the unknown, I pass this moment never to return, adding it to others long forgotten.

                    Cheryl C. Helynck

                               1998