I ran far,To the stars. Until all i saw was a tiny dot.I Ran far within, until my eyes were a hundred million miles away from me. To look from far. To get a better perspective.

I started questioning as soon as i started looking. Questions flying at me. Hitting me. Red hot planets, arrows, trash cans, flying at me. Questions questioning me to question myself.
Asking me who am I. Who am I? Who are we?
What do we strive for? What do we want? What are we looking for?

Looking at things from a very broad, silly and bizarre perspective, the world is a crazy place. Musicians are people who dedicate their entire life to beat up a piece of wood, or pull few strings on hollowed wood. Painters are people who are obsessed with putting colors on a piece of paper.
Love. Music. .Compassion. Meditation?

Things people do, to just spike up some stupid chemicals inside their brain that makes them euphoric.
What are we exactly? What are we doing here? Running along in this desert. Worn out. Running. Broken. Running. Tired,running. What for? What is this thing called life? What does it want from us? What do we want from it?
Right? Wrong? Morals? Values? Responsibilities? Duties?
What are these? What is right? Why is right? What is justice? What is law?Who is law?Who are we bound to? Why are we bound? What for?
Who tells me it is right? Who dare tell me it is wrong? Who owns me?
Why is it right to help a man. Why is it wrong to not. Does it matter? Does all this really matter? Creating paths, religions, for people to follow.

Paths. Roads. Highways. Monks. Sadhus.
Where is it going? The path takes me where? To what imaginary place? Where do I need to go? Why do I need to go? Why so? What for?
What is binding me to this. What can? Materials, materialists, trash,people, bunch of stupid atoms.

Rumi asked - ' Who is it who looks through me. Who is it that talks through me.'
Who is it indeed? Not the flesh? Soul?
Is it even real?

Maybe we were scared of accepting that it is nothing but merely non-living atoms. Maybe we just added an extra twist to it to make us feel better. Maybe it is all to tell us that we're special , We're not worthless. Not As worthless as just a bunch of atoms hanging out.
It is a mystery,a fantasy, a dilemma, a wild painting, an apocalypse.
Life. It is bizarre.