I really like this poem, and specifically these lines:

"Body's to home as snail is to shell
Crawl, walk, run, sprint; new texture same ground"

My interpretation of this poem is one of two - I think you're implying is humanity is one of the same. It doesn't matter where you came from, what you experienced, our cultural differences or upbringing, or really, anything that makes us uniquely an individual. We breath the same air, we drink the same water and as Shakespeare has written, we bleed the same blood. Our lives are all equal (and as a small addendum: it's a shame, unintentionally, that people don't seem to realize this.)

My second interpretation is more of a personal one. I also read it thinking that you feel the same, much like everybody else in the world. We literally walk on the same ground, despite leading vastly different lives, breath the same air, bleed the same blood, and well, are all the same. I felt reading it with this in mind that you feel there's no directive or objective in your life, and it makes me curious now with the slight ambiguity which interpretation is right (if at all).