Betwixt the day and night Sandwiched cleverly by time, I am obliged to contemplate The meaning of life and death.
Not morbidly you understand Rather as a lay philosopher, Weighing each separated segment This orange of unusual hue.
Firstly, perceive the rind The outer skin of no real import, Perhaps only truly useful grated To add flavor to a cake or cordial.
Note the film of nominal taste Protecting the juicy inner flesh, Pare away and all becomes liquid Without real form or texture.
Bite through that inner gossamer form Sink teeth deep into the substance,, Taste the sharpness and sweetness The precarious nature of existence.