Created by Chance

No end. No beginning. Residing in the middle riding the riddle of life, what is the purpose? What is purpose or what is The Purpose? Perhaps the purpose is made unclear on purpose by a creator. Or as others insist we persist by chance, and the dance that is life is merely strife of a random sort where we consort to find those of like mindedness. The madness we are. A jumble of cells, confined it would seem to that which befalls us we constantly ignore the background noise. Some say it calls us.