We should protect our illusions, imaginings, dreams, vague understandings that help make sense of this peculiar experience we call existence. Life has no specific form, does not follow a pattern, rather totters from one happening to another, haphazardly, a like a speck of pollen released into a tornado.
Our conscience cries out for clues, hints, some insight into this madness that besets our eyes at every turn. We seek foresight, inspiration.
Daily Abstract Thoughts 