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You just did.

I see people being told to rest and not to think. Till they have to, then they just have to. Then things go on and on, and confused, and changing paths. Then they're dead.

But that's only the simple version. The words can be stared at, and meanings will come. But writers just write, and make up their own meanings. In everything. Through everything.

I don't see meanings anywhere; that would be crazy. But I feel meanings all over the place. So I write about them.

Why aren't you going to write any more poems?

Fantastic. You identified one major theme but the chronology may be out of order. But very close.

And you're right. It's only one version.

I think if you try to find meaning in everything. You will only find that everything means nothing.

I don't know if I'll write again. Depends if an idea strikes me.