This is different. Not worse or better, just different. An ebb and flow.

A farmer that moves each season misses the harvest. Searching seems easier than becoming. Yet it yields no fruit.

I’ve learned about you. And now, I get to know you. There is no end.

It’s a valiant attempt to prop something up on its own two feet. Most often it looks a bit like the leaning tower of Pisa. The pursuit of ortho.

As soon as I stood up I couldn’t see. I know too much and yet nothing. I couldn’t stand.