Equating the Undefined

I walk this path today,Observing many of my own, Walking happily, Carving their paths each day, Little do they know, We are imprisoned on this world, With gravity forming around us all, We survive to live another moment, We die the next, Knowing that something was undone, That something was left to remain, A mystery so deep, Buried layer upon layer,Sedimented into fine dust carved beneath into the core, Answers lying within, A foundation set billions into the past, All the cycles that repeat amongst us all, We become none but a part of the soil, Whether buried, or cremated, Ashes or putrefied, In the end, All the world sees, No matter where we succeed, Our true existence equates to nothing but a fantasy, A repetition unique in so many ways, That none could ever fancy the true purpose of our being, And where we the denominator, a zero, cannot be divided, The only definition will be The "undefined."