Scrambled Eggs

How do you explain the feeling of remarkableness to one person? About another person? Is it not the same as asking how miraculously it is to explain the abstractness of God to someone who couldn’t truly understand?

The presence of a soul supersedes all else by becoming the cure to one’s illnesses, yet being the same deathly life bomb, reaching so deeply and profoundly that the thought of both answers to be coexisting in the same person without completely being canceled out in a plain beyond existence is perhaps overreaching the mind’s eye; even beyond my own.

The curiosities of life become some of the most worldly ideas that naturally are attempted to be put to good use but utterly fail to the point of irreversible solution. It simply cannot be saved by any means at all. Our structures and thought processes end up garbled as a pan full of scrambled eggs. We lose the yolk in the mess of yellow, only to sorely acknowledge the depths of our loss, to find that the only answer at that sad point would be to chew and swallow the lowly pan without ever looking back to the original answer that was sought after.

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