The line between knowing and mystery

Come! A world where we understand everything
leaves us with little mystery, but a greater
existence between each other. So what do we
accept, the consistent possibilities of
reminding each other we are worlds apart
and the hurt that comes from this inability to accept?
Nauseating understanding which would lay all bare,
driving everyone to the same point of a
tired perspective? The line between the two is thick,
rolled and cobbled together with the beautiful sight of
abstract and concrete. Without the true
need to understand, would we even try? Without
something we have understood, would mysteries
present the same wonder as they do? Perhaps we
already live in a world of perfection, one where we whittle away
remnants which no longer work, moving forward into
eternities which afford us the sight of glass,
never blocking us from seeing all, but blocked with more
things to see.

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