Noise

What do I yearn for, really?
What do I seek?

A million things float through my mind.
Chatter. Noisy.
A million doors down a million pathways in search of answers.
A million contemplations.
A million revelations.
A million maybes.

Does anything even matter?
As we are the ones who attach significance to events. Things. People. Places. Opinions.
If one were to break past attachment, what does anything mean?
What is happiness?
What is joy?

Is it the simple act of being present without expectation?
Observing.
Experiencing.
Feeling.
Being.

Not questioning. Not looking for answers.
Remembering.

But remembering what, exactly?

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