To think that there’s an entire cosmos left unexplored because no roads made of words and concepts can get there, is at once inspiring and tragic. How much am I crowding out because I’m stuck in my endless loop of familiar ruminations? How many portals to other dimensions have passed me by because I was so lost in inane thoughts, going through the motions, on autopilot?
Potential is unlimited because it hasn’t been casted in the form of thought yet. It’s hovering there, in clouds of emotions, on the edge of your core where you never turn your gaze. Just waiting until it returns to the Lord unspent, unvisited, unseen.