Plato believed that we’d never understand anything around us
because everything around us is the palest of illusions
veiling their true definitions.
In which case, I’m screwed
because I’m trying to understand everything around us:
the why things happen,
the why things are,
the why things change.
The questions I’m asking are asymptotic;
I'll get closer and closer I’ll get to the answers I seek
but I'll never really get there.
I’ve lived through a million unanswerable moments
and asked a million impossible questions.
for some crazy reason,
I’m still asking.
Maybe it’s my deluded naïveté,
the relentless optimism that I can’t seem to relinquish.
I can’t understand the world,
but I can try.
And since I’m never going to fully grasp everything anyway,
I might as well benefit from looking.