An Adventure

Questions, paradoxes that, though profound, are worth less than the time wasted on their ponders. Things that rattle you at night.

I know.

I'm sorry.
Sometimes I worry about you, sitting there, legs dangling over the edge of the earth. I know finding the actual end of all things, the physical stop of creation, has not yielded the closure you sought. I know the marching, the vigor, feels like it was a waste.

I know son.
You ran off to find us that rain. That small elusive manifestation of all that is essential and clean. You meant to bring us back to our gladness, and we are, I hope you find out later. You wandered off to the mists, through the trees. You ran where others cautiously crept. You tore over in great strides the pebbles I slipped on.

And I know you'd do it again.
I just wish we knew then.
I mean how could we not know. Rain, it's multitude of solitude. It's singular weight of infinate light drops. Rain is how much someone can be missed. Rain is how many people regret not saying something to you before you left. Rain is a hug from you to everyone you left behind, because there is no other comfort for those lost, only those waiting. You gave us the blanket off your shoulders. We gave the thanks to our gods and forgot about eachother.

I know you are alive.

I know you found the end of the earth.

The only thing left is to go home, but there's no secret to that.

The only time worthwhile is time of uncertainty, because only in restless angst can we find our truest selves. You knew all along, and you ran off without a whisper of doubt, regret, hesitance. Forgive our forgetfulness. We return in kindess what the fools percieve as miracles.

I hope you found the end of the earth.

I hope you know that's not the end.
Love is a sea of tumult and grandeur worth sailing, but I think you already knew. You loved us more than we could see from even up close. Each tiny drop reminds us though. There are no faulted tears in our watery groves.

Don't let the questions get to you, just keep learning.