Why is it that when we are young and our minds must develop by putting things into boxes we long to be outside of those boundaries, but when we grow older and learn to truly think abstractly, we attempt to put everything back in boxes once again?

Can't we relish that childhood longing and regain some of that magic we lost long ago, now that we are in a higher place to appreciate the subtleties of its beauty? Why can't we live in a gray area and finally understand that we understand nothing, that our effervescent minds cannot even comprehend our selves, let alone the whole universe? Why do we focus on what is behind the smaller truths when the one Truth looms over us all, waiting for us to be wrapped in the magic of simply reaching out and trying to grasp even a small fragment of its whole?

I once heard that we are all more mystics than we choose to believe, but why has such a choice been made? I think we are killing ourselves; slowly. We all know what it is like to die from the inside out, whether we choose to acknowledge that truth or fester in its grip. This is what happens when we stop looking at the Wonder of it all; we give up on peering into those invisible corners both dark and brightly lit.

It seems so obvious now, that we saw so much more as children than what our dulled eyes see today, perhaps a fragment of that Truth we have long forgotten. But as long as I am a part of this ugly, beautiful world, I will stand against everything that we deem "real". I am not afraid to walk on those borderlands, because I know that the magic we "lost" so long ago can be reached for again by the utterance of a single question.

"What if?"