Meaning in the futile

Words so imbued with raw emotion; the taste of bitterness was tangible in the air.

Asking "Why?", questioning, and struggling to understand.

These questions, they gather; caught up in the wind, spiraling, tumbling; paper planes flown off a cliff.

Only to eventually fall; swallowed greedily by the abyss.

The abyss does not answer.

And as you gaze searchingly into the abyss; so too does the abyss gaze into you; calling out invitingly to the it which resides within you.

The questions flow freely; but ask as you may; you'll never get an answer to assuage your worries; renew your faith. Only despondency awaits; for unanswered pleas. And yet they still have to be asked, even if they aren't replied, or - even worse - are answered with a simple "Because." There's meaning in the asking; power in the refusal to bow down before the abyss; and that's fine for me, treading the fine line on prespice's edge.

Sounds abit emo I guess; but it's an honest sentiment, something very recurring; if I may put it that way; and I think I just found (I hope) the right words to express it.