The Meaning of Everything

I must write to ease the mind again, again and again. Sometimes writing is only friend, and there isn’t a statement any truer than that at this current hour – alone, and by my lonesome, lonelier than solitude away from one’s self. What does it all mean…the patterns, symbols, ideas, and love? I just don’t know, but somehow I’m close to understanding everything I want to. Still, like I’ve said before, a bleak light year away lies true recognition of these vast, ambiguous natural laws. I’m chasing the unattainable, the elusive. The moon out the side window as you scuttle down the arteries of cities. The mystery of it all is enticing; the idea that it is unseen, but omnipotent leaves the mind clutching for it wistfully. Yearning for the knowledge – for the secret, the secrets of mankind; of existence; of time; of space; of the underlying reasons of everything; of the murky rules which controls the galaxies of galaxies. 

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