Between the covers of dawn and dusk,
Lies the unwritten volume of us.
Page by page, we search for meaning,
In a book where the end keeps changing.
We write in margins, scribble and erase,
Every heart a poet, trying to trace
The outline of joy, the shadow of strife,
Unraveling the mystery, we call the meaning of life.
In every chapter, a lesson, a laughter, a tear,
A story unique yet universally clear.
The meaning, perhaps, not found but made,
In the love we give, the paths we've paved.
So we read on, under the sun and moon's light,
Authors and readers of the infinite,
Seeking, in each other, the stories untold,
For the meaning of life, is the tale we behold.