An Advent of Sense

There is no point to any of this. The secret to life is that... there is no secret! We spend so much of our time dwelling, wondering, reflecting--        Am I doing the right thing?        Do I matter?        How can I make a difference to the world? Like finding our purpose is the reason that we are alive. These are not moral questions indicating our desire to improve the state of humankind; They are implications of the roots of our insecurity.        Am I doing the right thing? Subjective. Isn't relevant.        Do I matter? You're a dot of pigment on the face of the earth so...frankly, no.        How can I make a difference to the world? Unless you have an unusually dense system of money, intellect, and other resources, it will be very difficult to do.        Then why am I alive. Because it can be so beautiful. There is duality...

You are the synthesis of all of the beautiful things that a person can be You are a breeze that cools my skin and lifts my hair in the warmth of spring You are rapture, you are light, you are the object of my utmost respect You are god’s gaffer, illuminating the things that I try to hide You are faceted, multi-paneled quattrocento grace Unscripted, unfiltered, uncut and unbelievable. I’m rambling. I’m journaling. I’m documenting how you make me feel. How you crept into frame like a revelation How I’m driven half mad with your frequency in my mind. I have everything I want At least for a few weeks. Why do I crave any more? Joy does not equate contentment. I’m restless to see you to feel you to experience you. I want it, but you need give me nothing more. Your presence is gift enough.