Boring Meeting Poetry

I have much boring meeting poetry, but I kind of like this one.  It is not meant to be depressing, though people will read it that way anyway, won't they?

Many have said - all surfaces are veils.
Thus, one need only grip the skin firmly
Between finger and thumb and lift to peel
Away the thin overlay in order to see
The heart of all things pulsing in darkness
And silence, and yet I must ask what
Lies beneath the surface of all things,
If we must posit a universal essence,
If not nothing, sometimes named death,
But more universal, as what has never been
Born cannot die, but it is what is not,
Whether faded or merely postulated,
That is the only thing that holds up
What is.  Hence all things hasten to ruin;
Within the flowering plant in bloom
Beats the pulse of sere brown leaves
Rotting in the soil whence it sprung.