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.
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