others might have looked into the abyss
on the shoulders of giants before me
but the same abyss looks
painfully up-close-and-personal
from the dig i dug for myself
i am trying to come up with a
justification for having to anguish over
the apparent lack of meaning
in interacting with a universe
which has no purpose, sympathy or awareness
even the stories we spun for ourselves
for a better world:
just, beautiful and true
sound disgustingly delusional now
i am talking to myself
in the dungeons of my own mind
asking myself
my own petty-tyrant zen master
to which monsters
these shadows belong to?
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