It all peters out in the end.
The end is forever a tomorrow.
Like the horizon is a mere line
Converging from vastness….
Everything becomes simple
Lines and lines for everything.
Futile, are all our schemes.
Mundane, are all our emotions.
Ennui, are all our philosophies.
Pointless are argument and theory.
Of no consequence is the present
With the end being its essence.
We are made humble in the end.
Everything evens out in the end.
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