Is there a purpose?

I wonder. What really matters? In life. Here I am. Obviously alive and conscious. And most days, I don’t stop to ponder. What really matters? I merely go about my life. Without asking questions. No denying. That I exist. Perhaps as a robot. Unless, of course, I find ways to take control. Of my life. And start to inquire. About how I came about. And why am I here? Is there a purpose?  --Jim Broede