If life were picture perfect,
it would remain two dimensional,
instead the complexities are incalculable,
the nuances of interaction an interplay, multilevel,
and we with one vision, one perspective,
like looking through a pin whole to decipher existence.

A mind cannot contain the connections within life,
the core, the keys, the threads of truth that run throughout,
and in our attempt to understand, we scratch the surface,
the erroneous superficiality of truth,
when what lies beneath is to us, unfathomable,
but none the less, there.

We search with our hearts and from our needs to discover the definitive,
yet we are incapable of understanding it, or even recognizing it,
and we chip away, from the out side in, dissecting life's appearance,
while the miracle resides deep within,
like puzzle pieces vying for place,
and we have not found the board on which they sit.

Secrets untold haunt our existence,
we, always wanting to know,
to understand the beginning, the middle and the end,
life in its entirety, exposed in all its fabric of being,
to somehow feel more apart of it, as we are,
and accept the miracle for what it is, and the opportunities it affords.