Writing without a compass

When I ponder a situation for long after it had presented itself to me, there is a consistent need for me to shed light upon its intricacies that it may reveal its true nature with as little mind games as possible.

It had never been our intention to understand or get an actual grip of a matter but rather to learn to live with it and navigate through and with it. In a moment of restlessness when the mind is at its peak activity, the trick is not to be consumed by what we are not capable of sifting through or are not in control of. Accept the situation as an unfortunate truth and proceed with caution. I will not quote an ageing man who once said or did something; just take what I am telling you at face value from someone who has seen much without having seen enough at all.

We are such fragile beings that insist on full control and the fallacies inherent in that thought process. Creatures of pride, enslaved to our emotional state, reason is a state to enforce upon ourselves and not an instinctive savoire-vivre. Consider the times you have benefitted from logic versus the innumerable circumstances when you overreacted.

I am but a creature of diminishing understanding of the world I exist on, where I am allowed to breathe to become the bipod whose back science pats for needing to be.

There is absolutely no purpose for this save as an esoteric, self-indulged infatuation with the need to write and present an effort upon a platter made ornate with verdigris. I enjoy seeing words in their own context, free from my interference or limited understanding of their combined potential.