Quietly contemplating the sands as they slowly disappear beneath my feet through some imperceptible hole in time, I find myself asking which grain showed the most promise. Is it one within my grasp or one long since lost?
Every effort made to count them to place them politely in some palatable recognizable form, straining to find an order in a hill of sand, all the rain in the sky or the wind as it races across the ocean, none of these have any use for order. They are not as dependent as I, on the spacing, the markers or values of consciousness, they have no need to be made into puzzles.
Quietly contemplating the moments as they sprinkle themselves imperceptibly into eternity, I found myself asking which one I found the most appealing and wondering if I even noticed that which had the most meaning, so many moments.
And what of those which had none, like the body of water that sports a glint of sunlight, a dark temporal background on which meaning rides, those precious useless moments. Of what value are these?
In quiet contemplation I have lost my need of puzzles, of quiet contemplation. I have decided to enjoy the moments, all the rain in the sky and the winds across the ocean, until they come to rest.
Mana'nam 