Nothing is pointless

To Peter



The sky is like an inverted bowl

A cup of darkness pushing us down

A grey blanket that presses our soul

We stumble along, frail and alone.

Being human we look up, hopefully

We count the stars and measure the rain

Carefully, we construct an ontology

We wait for the light to come back again.

Nothing is pointless you said

We can find meaning in philosophy

We owe it to the living and the dead.

Our vegetable soul seeks harmony

We love others; people love us

We look up. The sky is numinous.