i am in a seemingly precarious mood. full of action. yet inaction. beaming with solitude. forging a path of vigorous thought. and little outside change. i find myself unable to find the issue of contemplation. but merely i am circling it. pondering all the corridors but never stumbling into the main room. and this my dear reader. is an entry of non entry. i have no words for what i am searching. no wisdom in my ignorance. nothing except fluttering syllables skirting around my own incompetence. perhaps i am not supposed to know. perhaps unknowing and comfort in the state of conceding to that fact. is all i ever really look to find.
