Why does the end of the world feel like tears that make me smile?

Like the memory of all, dripping in to one
Like the reverie of the ocean
Churned by winds that mock and run

Like the severing of all motion;
Shared akin by clock and gun

Why does the utter lack of meaning gift such joy and such despair?

Like the writhing truth inside of every lie
Like the mysteries that hide behind
The peripheries where we glide

Like every single human experience;
Where worlds may or may not collide