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What Is, What Was, What Shall Be?

It is but a conundrum that we face each moment, that which we cannot comprehend or understand. Is it a way to face sheer madness and chaos to know that there is nothing that there was nothing and there will never be anything? Can the human mind, if such a construct exists, be expected to grapple with the notion that we are all a figment of ephemeral vapor? To what purpose is life? Is there a purpose? Can there be a purpose? Or is the very idea of purpose as faulty as and as corrupt as a $3.00 USD bill?

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