Thinkers and doubters

I. No context needed, Just “I”. This book is going to start with just an ‘I’ because this is how most of our thoughts start - with ourselves, and this book is a thought, in a way. We do not first think of ourselves out of selfishness, we first think of ourselves simply because we think as ourselves and we compare others to what we know us to be. Our thoughts, even if we cannot control them, are based solely on the things that we know, and since our capacity for knowledge is limited, our range of thought will always contain only the information we are exposed to when we are paying attention. But maybe it’s something we need to accept. Maybe this is a lesson in life we all have to learn - that our own thoughts are not enough, that we will never know enough, or do enough. It doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t try though. It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to know, aspire to understand and hope to figure out life, and everything around it. It’s endless - it really is, but that’s the beauty of it - the beauty in realizing that I don’t know everything, that I will never know everything, but that I will never stop trying, and that my attempt to know as much as I possibly can, is enough. We have no idea what we are doing ninety percent of the time, and at the end of the day, we all are just blindly navigating life, not knowing how or what or why. We are all just a bunch of thinkers and doubters, looking up at the sky to find direction, hoping to see sunsets, sunrises, and cloudless blue in between. Sometimes I wish That the wind could just take me with her When flying randomly In the sweet and mechanical sky. She will effortlessly carry my weight, Giving me a tour of the city I have known my whole life, And we will be as one - Transparent and non-existent, Everywhere and nowhere, The continuation of yesterday with tomorrow’s tragic prediction, Strong, but only for a logical reason, With the potential to create a storm Though with the intention not to be noticed. And no one will ever know the difference, Unless a real effort is made To distinguish between the absoluteness of the wind, And the shivering sensation Of me.