Viewpoint.

In the morning, they both didn't feel like writing the exam. 
She thought, 'I'm set. I don't need to write this.' 
He thought, 'I'm screwed anyway. What's the use?'

Meaning

The search is endless.
The path fruitless.
The goal uncertain.
And yet we look.

An incomplete theorem.
An unfinished painting.
An abandoned building.
You stare at them.
They stare back.
And yet we look.

We search for the one.
In crowds so big.
Not knowing, not believing.
Not accepting. Nor stopping.
Life goes by, and I grow old.
And yet we look.

The wisdom of the ancients,
Know thyself, it says.
'What's the point?' we ask.
Ignorance is bliss.
And yet we look.

The universe builds on singularities,
Asymmetric, warped, like desire.
Like will, like logic, like love or pain,
We know not the solution,
Or even if it can be solved.
Unprovable, axiomatic, it lies,
The fruit, in itself, the seed.
And yet we look.

Love, loss, wisdom, pain.
Zero sum, zero gain.
Sometimes a bit high, then low.
From dust to dust, we come, we go.
And yet, we look.
For meaning.