Did you ever have a dream that made you scratch your head? One that appeared on the surface phantasmic, but upon further scrutiny, owned a strong bit of Truth? Questions. Questions without answers. The definition of life for us all yet we emphasize the answers. The answers others create appall us. The answers others create resonate. Same for the answers we create ourselves.

Answers do not mean much in the end. Your answers. My answers. Their answers. All exist as a quiet whimper in a maelstrom cacophony of shouting mouths and minds and emotions. Yes, we track paths and resonances with others. Even these words, sounding so much like an answer falls prey to the din of voices in our heads, our media, our entertainments, our arguments, our perspectives.

Therefore, what is truth? What pushes us to strive for the sublime answers? Panic? Desire? A need to be heard? Loneliness? Frustration? Anger? Joy? Love?

In the end, Solomon owned the question. There exist no answers save the gold standard catch-all concept of diety and a plan. A plan laid secret. A plan we cannot fathom. Solomon stated that our lives are a “chasing after the wind.”

At the risk of pretending Solomon’s statement lends an answer, the concept only describes the reality of life. We convince ourselves we possess the wherewithal to divine answers. Answers plucked from the tornadic destruction surrounding us. We know nothing.

When Life was Worth Living

Carefree moments.
Depths of emotional soothing
Sensory deprivation beyond the beauty we periodically wake long enough to admire before we fall back into analytics and answers

Blank mind open to our internal pencil…no, chalk
Simple observations accepted as a gift
Until the rains sweep clean our slate of answers.

When life was worth living
I stole a moment for myself
A concept to dream
Roll over my internal mental and emotional tongues
Revel in the experience of everything
of one thing
of focus and clarity
of foolhardy, delicious ecstasy

I remember many of the days or moments worth living
Despite the growl and vitriol of competing answers from countless trillions of sources
All demanding their place in space and time
At times recognizing my own folly of tossing more into the endless black hole abyss drawing us near
Each pretentious answer another shard-dagger to my perception of knowledge
When life was worth living

I know nothing
I must reach that point of recognition
From nothing, I create my next moment when life was worth living
Fringe thoughts allowed to fly off into the blackness
A central thought which defines me vanishes
I feel the life worth living become something tangible
Something attainable
Something beautiful
Despite the blithering idiot within and those without

Alcove in the aforementioned storm
Swept away by the frailest of voices
Whispering the concept of answers

When life was worth living
My life did not care about answers or questions or concepts or rightness or wrongness or any other -ness
Life Is, Was, and Shall be the absence of questions and answers
A place of me, a moment, an experience, and a lack of qualification

when life WAS worth living
when life IS worth living
when life SHALL BE worth living
Owes nothing to anyone
Including myself