Between meaningless and meaningful

Before the sun sets 

                I need to find you somewhere in between the mobilizing rays of the day and the paralyzing beam of nothingness.

But I can’t. I can’t. 

I can’t find you anywhere else but only in between the purest field of birds of paradise in a good soil and the dark blood drawn chariot of a cursed sky.

As the sun gradually sets in kindness, I can’t,  I can’t, I can’t see you around the swollen clouds of death and of irrelevance. 

It seems I haven’t laughed at the parody yet 

I can’t, I can’t bring myself to act upon the abundant noise of mutual futility 

Where fertility does not matter 

Where priority becomes not even the second best 

Where the choice to fill in the void is atrocious 

And I can’t,  I can’t meet you even within the exact rendezvous

Find me. Find me between meaningless and meaningful 

Whereby one is left to figure out the only ‘meaning’ in between. 

 

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