There exists a hole inside all of us.
It hungers for offerings. It seeks to be appeased.
And yet the more it's filled, the wider it ever gets.
It's an all consuming, Sisyphean abstract.
We call this pit by many names of the old.
Some bemoan it as greed. Others worship it as hope.
They're but false labels by human's fabrication;
Concepts beyond the cavity’s comprehension.Its domestic oddity springs exclusively from within.
It does not question why it exists.
It does not ponder why it grows.
It does not doubt why it persists.
Therefore all sins lie on man to decode its purpose.
A godless slave, charged with a flawed acumen.
To futile banishment or unforgiving coexistence it paves the way.