Barren

What’s the point of all this?
This struggling, striving,
making it up to moments
vivid, vivacious, joyful,
melancholic and mundane.

What’s the point of all this?
This dreaming big, yearning,
wishing; drawing into the
pages of time with a hope
that is forever undying.

What’s the point of all this?
This hunt for a purpose,
this restlessness for a
kind of sensible association;
the search for meaning.

What’s the point of all this?
This love, this hatred,
this disarray, this stillness,
this resonance, this dullness
this life, this lifelessness.

What’s the point of all this?
What’s the point of I asking
“What’s the point of all this?”
Why am I even asking this?
Answer me, will you?

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