Every breath, a moment of wonder.

It all begins with the question; why am I… Here? Alive? Without a head? The great existential quest for meaning. Is it possible that the quest is the purpose in and of itself?
This of course brings to mind Chinese proverb bullshit about roads or/and journeys verses intrinsic value, but that is beside the point. One would not be on the path if one had not decided that the means may justify the end. How much knowledge came from the efforts of human monsters?
Here however you cannot bring up the issue of “good” and “not-good” as some non-arbitrary measure of value. Knowledge is just human understanding of existing evidence, and do not forget that evidence can be inaccurate or/and misinterpreted.
Wonder.
Is this new of form and thought? Is this old in some classic sense? Old patterns and new are traps for which to fall.
Wonder.
Like singing the bird flies to my mind from outside my window as late dawn breaks. The days are getting to be the same as the years before. Still no sun can blind me like the right eyes in mine.
Wonder.
Is this nonsense making any? Is language just gibberish of another monkey kind, running, rambling. The river of tongue making its way onward you see. Of course not, there is nothing. Only time for one more now.
Wonder.
All meaning is now officially lost. Thank you very much for traveling. Can you hear the message behind the empty questions? I asked. The answers are forthcoming and straight forward. All meaning is now official. I do not need any more, this was the last today.