My scribbles · Perturbations

My whereabouts

While trying to catch the drift it is intuitable that I am not in the quest for something which can be proved.
Drawn to the quiet bliss of the moonlight dancing on the floor of a river and to the gaieties of a tiny speck of life.
Since the dawn of the journey, been tossed to something that has nothing to do with proofs. it’s festivities and
rapturous hellos. Abruptly, I found myself in a dense jungle of meanings.. where I get the wind of my shrieking
self. In a moment’s sonder I observe them, proving themselves what they need to. Been oblivious to their journeys
and the routes they travelled. and it takes me to something I’ve been trying to get rid of –an old me, looking for
proofs, in the constant struggle of finding something to that I can surrender and unleash myself from me. An urge
to break free completely glides through my whereabouts. Still, love the hilarity of proving the nonsense of proving.