Beloved, you would like to make sense at least once in a while.
What is the meaning of a moment in time when you’re told, in fact, that time doesn’t exist? How can a moment of time exist or seem to exist unless it does or doesn’t?
Who is asking all these questions and why? Where are you leading to, or who is leading you, and how will you ever know what is what or who is who? Who will know where you have been if you ever have really been anywhere anyway or anyhow? Who ponders all these questions, and who answers them? Does anyone know anything? Does anyone have a leg to stand on? How will anyone or anything lead somewhere or anywhere or nowhere, and who has the say?
If life is just a runaround, is there anything to it? Who can make up a song like this?:
“Is life just a run-a-round? Bippity-bip! Boppity-boo! Outta time, can there really be a destination in view or hiding out anywhere? What's the a point of a question or an answer held up in the sky or in the dark? Dippity-doppitty-do.”
Where do motives exist, and what is their other name if they do, indeed, bear a name?
If a word does exist, does this mean there is meaning somewhere or another? You would like some meaning.
Is every word in pursuit of the next one? How can there be a next without time or a before or an after or even nothingness in that case? What can the meaning of in that case be anyway?
What is the meaning of attention span? What on earth are you supposed to be attending to, and what are you not to be attending to even if such a possibility exists?
How do flowers grow, and where do flowers go when they wilt, and why does all this seemingly matter so very much? It does seem hugely important to know even when no one can really know the difference in what you know or do not know.
What is perspective all about? How do you know if you stand in a valley or in an orchard on a hill? How simple is such a thing as picking an apple from its branch? Was there ever a time when no one had really ever picked an apple or picking an apple was even written about? Was it only a rumor that eating an apple from a certain tree ever really was forbidden? Why would something exist only to be denied, and why do so many of God’s children ask so many questions?
What are you supposed to make of this and make of that, and what are you to do with whatever you make of it? Is there somewhere to put whatever you happen to think of? Do you have to put anything anywhere to be hidden, and why would you? Why would something exist if it is to be shuffled away and pretended not to be here, and why would you?
You would really like to know what is and what is not and what anything is for, if, indeed, it is for something.
Can it be that life is consequential or inconsequential? Either way, what is life about, and why, oh why, are you asking ad infinitum, and does anyone hear echoes of what you say or care to illustrate them with a stick in sand as the tide seems to be coming in and going out?
You remember seeing an eddy, or at least you remember seeing an illustration of one once upon a time far away and long ago.
Yes, you would like to make good sense at least once in a while.