Come! Take a seat beside me! This view is not one to be wasted on the casual bystander!

You see that? The gleaming gems which beam from the cars are beginning to dim! Nightfall, of course, chases them from the bridge for it to take solitary attention!

And how beautiful a sight it is! A true marvel!

You see, it stands alone with its tall frame piercing through the black carpet laid above! One does wonder what it might think?

That is, if such a thing could think!

And what thoughts it would have, I’m sure! How must it feel to be seen as a necessary middleman? Ferrying vehicles from one side of this river to the next? Only for it to fall silent come the late hours, and for not a soul to pay it attention until the sun rises!

One might think it could feel rather lonely? Perhaps used? I would attest to it feeling resentful, even spiteful!

But these are, of course, merely the thoughts of a thinking being.

But how strange a statement that now seems?

For what might make that bridge, and when broken down again, and then again, and then - you understand my point! When broken down to what is inconceivable, how can it not be that which I am also when reduced to the inconceivable? Aren’t our material embodiments not just immaterial assumptions of what we might be?

Truly a question to boggle the mind!

You know, there was once a man who claimed that to think is to be!

And for as long as this question of what has circulated our academic forums, not once has there been an answer!

Yet, this claim: to think and prove existence, I must confess, does not provide me with much sustenance, for it is not my question it can answer!

See, my existence is not something to question - it is a fundamental part of what has driven me to this questioning!

No, my dear, it goes much further!

For to think might be to be, but what could possibly conceive of such thoughts? Such wants? Such drives?

It seems rather ridiculous to try to prove one’s existence, as one must first exist to question!

No, I wish to go further!

I wish to go beyond what we are!

I wish to know what makes us be!

Now, let me be clear, for one could understand how this might seem ludicrous!

I hear how you taunt “to look for that which lies beyond comprehension! A madman! His mind must be nothing more than a useless pile of nothingness!”

Aha! But what might one dispute this with?

For what can a pile of nothingness truly argue for?

Well, I shall ask what it might feel like to be led by nothingness?

And watch how they’ll stutter and stammer!

They will be truly lost in thought, trying to formulate an idea of nothingness!

And soon, they will abstain from answering! This court of mind and body will shake their heads in disgust as an answer to what nothingness is goes wanting!

And so, as one cannot answer for what my mind of nothingness might consist of, I will claim that an answer to what something is cannot also be answered!

See, if you will forgive the ramblings of a man lost in thought, you will allow me to explain.

For as much as one cannot answer for nothingness, one cannot answer for somethingness, nor can one answer for anything that exists beyond the physical! And so, as one may be made of that which makes another, the question of why we must even pursue such an answer arises!

How can everything, when destroyed and broken down to an unrecognisable form that all first embodies, produce an experience which is never identical to what it forms through time?

How can that bridge and I be made up of the same material, yet I cannot tell you what it thinks? If it thinks?

It seems implausible, I’m sure, to be unable to answer for if or if not a bridge may have such a subjective experience from other bridges, but when tasked with (and subsequently failing) to answer what drives one’s thoughts, how can one not entertain such an idea?

Perhaps the answer is, in fact, unattainable for a reason?

Perhaps one is not built to know what exists beyond oneself?

Nor are they designed to understand fully the inner goings on of the one who might, on the coldest of nights, rush past them to escape the bitterness that chills the wind!

Which reminds me! How cold you must be! These February nights really do carry such a crisp breeze that one can often forget that the chill will soon build to a torrid freeze!

Come, give me your hand!

I often get caught in these short ramblings, and rarely do I find what I first sought!

Maybe I shall never know what I am?

And maybe that’s because it’s not for me to know just yet.

With love, as always

Aaron

Authors Note;

This is my first post on Wrizzit! Pls be kind thank you xoxo