Lounging out in the backyard, feeling the cold nipping at my toes, I am led to believe that it is for nights like these that philosophers live. Surrounded by such harmony, as if the heavens hear you out and do your bidding, one cannot help but feel eternally fortunate and humble. The great sky above hiding an army of stars, nebulae, galaxies and black holes and other cosmic wonders that I am too ignorant to understand. It saddens me to think how my meager capabilities cannot afford to help me even begin to understand what lies beyond. A wealth of cumulative knowledge to base upon and ponder, lies at my feet, and yet I stay a mere fool who turns his step at the slightest breeze that happens to graze against my fickle skin. Curiosity lies gasping for breath under several heavy folds of seemingly worthy desires; such is the folly, the vanity, that I yearn for the sugar of a rotting apple in a blossoming orchard.
Shadows cast themselves governed by immutable laws on plastic chairs, made by machines of steel, hissing and snarling under concrete buildings - all of them conceived and brought into existence by the mere sparks of a limitless mind as it toils away. Perhaps towards a higher errand that is worthier and greater than what we are capable of perceiving at this point in this apparently pointless game. Who am I to take on this challenge of unraveling the eccentricities of a supreme will that passes majestically, unaltered and oblivious, despite our zealous attempts at affecting a change. Having understood all of this, if I call it foolishness to go on, I should also understand that it is outright sinful to submit and stop. Right here, in this room of thought, lies what is probably the central dilemma that stifles and inspires us at the same time.
Given that we submit to what's transpiring all around us, we would fail if we were to cease our attempts at understanding our surroundings. We would most definitely fail if we were to stop appreciating the complexities and intricacies that are incessantly unfolding and folding back into themselves. We are all staring at and dreaming of purpose on a tiny piece that is all of a speck in a giant jigsaw puzzle. The immeasurable cruelty of this situation being that, this speck is all we have. Riding on the pomp and self assumed grandeur of our feeble steeds, we wish to give birth to a shrewd eagle that will carry us to a higher ground. A vantage point where we may gaze upon a more meaningful picture before we set out again to quench a never-ending thirst for purpose where there maybe none.
May the novelty never die, may the glint of a far-fetched notion of completion ever spur us on like a distant island of diamonds, may the wind restlessly ebb us on to a purported haven where lie the answers to all our disquieting questions - may we always find beauty in our paths that lead us to a destination which is no destination at all.
Shadows cast themselves governed by immutable laws on plastic chairs, made by machines of steel, hissing and snarling under concrete buildings - all of them conceived and brought into existence by the mere sparks of a limitless mind as it toils away. Perhaps towards a higher errand that is worthier and greater than what we are capable of perceiving at this point in this apparently pointless game. Who am I to take on this challenge of unraveling the eccentricities of a supreme will that passes majestically, unaltered and oblivious, despite our zealous attempts at affecting a change. Having understood all of this, if I call it foolishness to go on, I should also understand that it is outright sinful to submit and stop. Right here, in this room of thought, lies what is probably the central dilemma that stifles and inspires us at the same time.
Given that we submit to what's transpiring all around us, we would fail if we were to cease our attempts at understanding our surroundings. We would most definitely fail if we were to stop appreciating the complexities and intricacies that are incessantly unfolding and folding back into themselves. We are all staring at and dreaming of purpose on a tiny piece that is all of a speck in a giant jigsaw puzzle. The immeasurable cruelty of this situation being that, this speck is all we have. Riding on the pomp and self assumed grandeur of our feeble steeds, we wish to give birth to a shrewd eagle that will carry us to a higher ground. A vantage point where we may gaze upon a more meaningful picture before we set out again to quench a never-ending thirst for purpose where there maybe none.
May the novelty never die, may the glint of a far-fetched notion of completion ever spur us on like a distant island of diamonds, may the wind restlessly ebb us on to a purported haven where lie the answers to all our disquieting questions - may we always find beauty in our paths that lead us to a destination which is no destination at all.
