There is a gap in our knowledge of our knowledge, a place so deep in our collective unconscious we forget it lingers unseen. It is the light at the end of the tunnel of exploration, a destination changing with each footstep closer. A piece of the universal equation, answers to questions that will never be asked. Words are inadequate and all the same sufficient, as eternity has diminishing returns. Why in all its forms do we try to approach an end that is wrapped in beginnings, a sorrow’s joy and a chaotic order of completeness? Walk as you might to its fulfillment, but never ask to grasp its bodiless forms. As to know the future past present unwound would mean you never chose to find it in the first place. All knowing is a paradox.
Categories: Art, Writing