One Question

I love myself the most, for how can I deny what is important to me. To such an extent this is that I search for the one who created thee. Lucky I feel, for the road paved, the ups and downs, survived, understood and finally embraced. How different would I have been if only I got what I thought was good for me. A different path this would have taken me, and who knows where this would lead.
Thankful I must be for the gift that I now see, hidden to most, not as fortunate as me. Working through life never satisfied, the more they gain the less they see. Blinded, slowed down and troubled, by the thing sought after and finally achieved. How, for them, dreadful it must be, the strenuous climb to the peak, only to find out its the wrong mountain they seek.
The greatest secret, tragedy I call, is that it’s always there, the first thing seen by all, subtle, pellucid, unnoticed by many. Mistaken for the potent seductions, the tenacious distractions, holographic facade, the delusion of this man-made world. Always there with slick hair, and a pretty face, to search deeper is a bother, as with judging a book by its cover.
Never mind the love of possessions, the wealth, the money, and all that comes with it. All in reality unwanted luggage, gold tied to a feet of a swimmer, what good is its value, other than drowning the unexamined self out of his misery. What would life be if this energy is used to enhance, the greatest of all treasures, the value of time, to think and read, to attain knowledge, to search for meaning.
To enjoy things that are boundless, to ponder with astonishment of things beautiful yet unexplained, The wonder of the human condition, the awe of natures perfections, that which science seeks to explain in vain, pealing layers of knowledge with time. Pealing the onion from the inside, infinite layers each larger and greater to fathom.
Science has come to its limits concluding anything is possible, in a multi-verse where all possibilities are real and have no purpose. Philosophers, on the verge of extinction, have once again risen to the challenge, searching for an answer, ever since a question could be asked. My thoughts, the only thing indisputably real asks, what is the purpose, the meaning, of all of this.

2 responses to “One Question

  1. The purpose of being needs only be being and experience. For most or us, this is better than the alternative off not being, though some do prefer not being. That being said, we create a purpose for ourselves out of out concerns for ourselves and others.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I really don’t know the answer, that’s why I asked it. However I would rather believe there may be a greater purpose and search for it, probably not ever finding it, than accepting that there is no purpose and we should create our own.

    It’s similar wanting to believe there is a unified theory in Physics and searching for it, than just accepting that gravity and the quantum are two different forces.

    Liked by 1 person

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