I feel the roughness of my fingertips and palms, running up to my head. 

I seek an answer for why I was created; the deep, unique, intricacies of my features, like the bark of a tree. 

at a glance, chaotic, 

but with deeper inspection, a beauty veiled by coarse wood. 

I wonder to myself if truly it came down to the binary code of biology,

or if I was the clay of a higher being, 

molded into my imperfect form, and sent to this earth to experience sorrow, and love, and the imperfections of this world.

To experience life is not to merely live. 

To experience life is to see and seek the fellow imperfections around you, 

to feel the chaos of the bark, to see the world molded around you, to examine the leaves that fall around you, 

to examine the leaves that fall around your feet. 

To experience life is to pursue your calling, and seek life in the patterns on your hands, 

to pursue the deep echo in the chambers of your heart and finally hear the rushing sound of fulfillment and joy fill your heart and veins, 

finally experiencing life, 

not just living.