My distraction is aware of all that it lacks. It can be missing out on the various sounds of rain or it can be not holding the knowledge to appreciate architecture it falls on.
I accept that there is a lot that I don’t accept. I understand that there is a lot that I don’t understand. Distraction is the doom of my being. Distraction is the life of my death.
Sleep. It’s a distraction from where we are running away from. It takes us somewhere strange.
Dreams. Every single soul on this earth has them. It’s the mystical land removed from reality yet it mirrors reality more than we can fathom. The thing you’re running from ends up chasing you.
Understanding. Either we can travel the world feeding our fear of losing out on the truth. Or we can sit here and imagine the truth we fear. We can make the truth, have faith in it, reason with it or just simply understand. There is nothing there to understand.
Meandering. A word that describes best what you’re reading, what you’re living, what you’re hearing around you, or what you’re not seeing around you. Yet we seek to find meandering patterns to fool ourselves that we understand.
We need to understand just one thing. We understand nothing yet we understand everything.