Soul soup

The world started with a womb and it grew bigger,
From the words 'given' to 'make', relationships were made,
Solitary confinements were reduced and yet pursued,
As we knew, so did we forgot,
What's for us and what we could accumulate,
Eventually to the need, we all succumb,
That's the only hay that we make.
Its a meaningless trail, to find meaning and mean the findings,
For we find nothing but a vapid play of emotions and drives,
No cry will last, no smile will ever fade,
Its a psyche's call, cycle byfar,
Till the last breath and then again, the womb till it grows bigger......