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Picture location unknown. Written in Black Rock City, Nevada. (Burning Man 2018.)

Blessed and cursed are the wanderers

With their ignorant pity on complacency

Free falling towards these places that they go.

Endless places, infinite, that are

simply everything and nothing all at once.

Oh, are they but fools?

Seeking revelations with all their might.

Becoming lost, and then found again

There is nowhere to be, yet they cannot escape the need to be somewhere in every moment.

Is existence such a bore?

That they must spend eternity

Searching for an answer that does not exist.

What else will satisfy

this insatiable hunger to know.

Is it their pain that causes their search for knowledge?

Or does it root from a desire for joy?

Surely, one does not run simply for enjoyment of the act of running.

Mustn't it stem from some kind of fear?

Envious they are, for those who can be still as they endure all this pain.

And maybe ignorant in believing that their torture is shared.

Infinity, once again,

as perhaps the torture lies in the constant chase of attempting to learn the unlearnable.

And knowing much too much of absolutely nothing at all.

Shall they continue to excuse evolution as a search for purpose

or shall they accept that they are, indeed, fools.

Seeking nothing more than one another

to share, fear, and celebrate

purposelessness.

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