the meaning of life

What does this all mean, he asks himself, then
answers, himself, too: It means
nothing. There is
no
meaning. It is
an exercise in futility
to find meaning, for we
are
here for no great purpose,
other than to
survive and help others
do the same. That is the function
of propagation – to keep
the mystery continual. For if
someone solved it – and many
talk about what it is, as though
they cracked the code – or if we ran out of people, it would
all
be
over. Which begs the question, then: Just
how hard are we
trying to figure
it
all
out, in between love affairs and kids
and visits to the dentist and dinner
at
Chick-fil-a, for example. When is there
time
to really think about ... it? And, so,
life
goes
on. Think about it –
or
don’t. It doesn’t make
any
difference.
Really.