You and I

We exist, you and I, as inexorable experience collectors, sometimes individually, often collectively; intertwined in our quest for experiences.

We're a rare breed, you and I, for we believe in gathering experiences sans judgements, sans pain, sans hatred. We wish to be like a sandstorm, indifferent to the dust we gather, yet growing strong with the same dust; atleast we wish to be, for sometimes, the storm falls in love with the grains, not willing to let go. We begin to love the grains, hate them, wish they'd be less abrasive, or more. The grains are what gives us strength, will and reason to sustain the storm. Without the storm, the grains needn't exist, and without the grains there'd be no storm. What matters - the grain or the storm?

We're funny, you and I, for in the course of our quest, we forget that the course is short, that the course didn't have a past before it started, and no future after where it stops abruptly. Millions and millions of paths had the million quests taken, strengthening each other, bitching, groveling, snarling, smiling, existing.

We're wise, you and I, for we realise that the course is ephemeral, and in a cosmic scale, is hobbesian.