What are we?
things can come in all forms and colours.
They can both dazzle and confuse you. They can lift you to a point of question which could keep you lingered for a lifetime.
A lifetime of lingering may sound absurd, but each and every one of us is truly nothing but dust, dust scattered in a beam of -what seems to us as- light.
We do not know why we float so irrationally in this multidimensional, often illuminated world.
We’re just here for now.
Surrounded by the similar lost and the similar in question,
we gallop the sense of belongingness and comfort. The pseudo-belongingness.
We are all lost.
We are a cliff-hanger.
We are walking question marks.
We are the certainties of the uncertainty of this lifetime.
We exist to make a meaning for ourselves, that eventually defines us. Ill-defines us.
We are dried words that were once callings.
We are nothing.