Inhumanity

What does it mean to be human?
Is it like smelling the scent of flowers,
Feeling the gentle wind against your face.
Holding the love of your life
In your arms?
How do you know humanity?
Do you have to feel happy,
Or is being broken all the time, enough.
There is nothing to tell us,
What we are—
Where will we go—
We only have the instincts we were born with.
Nothing to guide us,
Unwillingly we travel an untamed sea.
To that place,
That road we seek—
To Avalon.