If everything is nothing, than everything
means something, or
something means everything
to the people who need it to mean things.
The imposition of order upon chaos
like a plastic star rammed
through the square peg
of a child’s broken toy.
Everything means nothing
but what it means. A cigar
is just a cigar, and that is
its higher purpose. To be.
To be, to exist. To have
its meaning through being
with no purpose lain upon it
other than it’s most basic self.
This is what it means.
Not imposed order, just being.
In chaos, sadness, disorder and strife.
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