A silly question, really;
the grammatical equivalent
of an Escher staircase.
Why should life mean anything?
And who should have reason to care,
except on those long nights
when the void looms so far and dark
that by sheer force of nothingness
the question is sucked into being,
implying the existence of an answer
larger than any you have at hand?
-- Oliver Broudy, The Convert
(arranged quote)
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