It’s not supposed to make sense, and yet that makes perfect sense
Perhaps, it is the only sense that there is
If we believe that, it is nonsense to believe that there is no sense
For where would be the sense in that, to submit to being devoid of it?

Where are we going? Are we going anywhere?
Is it best to stay put or try a myriad of directions?
But to what end? Is there and end? That is to say, is there any sense?
It makes sense to debate to it, well at least to some, not to all
For what is it to change direction, or remain motionless?

It makes perfect sense, but to who?
No one is able to explain it
And the few of those self-pronounced as “capable” merely punt
Thus this proverbial rugby ball yo-yos in limbo, cynically one would imagine
As that would only make sense at this point
Or unshakeable naïveté, that too is a sensible hypothesis, contrary to the “explanation”

There is a sense
Yes, that no one can agree on, so does it even exist?
If it did wouldn’t it be common sense?
Not necessarily, look around you!
So where is the sense in that?
We wonder the same thing

There is no sense! There isn’t supposed to be!
The proof is everywhere! That is the only thing that makes sense!
What is the sense in pretending otherwise, merely to desensitize?
On the contrary, to be reassured there is a sense

Whether seeking or not even thinking of it
Whether in a quest for validation or refutation
We may as well give it some sense