Meditation Sonnet (2-27-21)
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Does living have any larger meaning?
There anything behind reality?
Which we’d learn more of, by examining?*
(Or do we find it there in vanity?)
It there is any unseen significance
To the warp & weft of our lives’ fabric?
& is it put there by magnificence?
Or is it just life’s tawdry brac-a-bric?
What if ev’rybody gives life import?
(No matter how wholly unqualified)
Do common people common cares insert
In existence’s tapestry here plied?
Or is life Penelope’s cloth so light?
Woven by day, & unraveled at night?
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*That should be interpreted through gleaning?