You remained garrisoned all your life, suddenly death knocks on the door,
No matter how much you fuse with beloved, you'll die alone for sure.
You poured your passion, the work doesn't fill, whom do you now blame?
There's no meaning to grab, you have to stitch it yourself, isn't that so lame?
The heart pines for some structure, a pattern behind which to hide,
That life is random and chaotic, can you take it in your stride?
Life doesn't owe you anything, it need not your wishes fulfill,
It doesn't care whether you limp in despair, or in glory yourself kill.
The world is indifferent is a lie we're told, the stranger smiles and cares.
The heart may not get clarity upfront, but it can create one if it dares.
The world, made of others, can care a bit, we can perhaps meet midway,
Instead of searching for meaning outside, we can mindfully forge our way.
Confronting the absurd can be traumatic, it can also heal and transform.
You have to look in the abyss only once, and can stay calm in the later storm.
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