What is it you? Captivating (not like the rain, but the sea) its overwhelming. What is it I know, but what i have seen. and when the day ends, tomorrow; i will scoff at the past. Convincing, i'm convinced, all things grow old. what does it mean? what can it mean? If part of me doubts, how much should i allow to go unsurpassed, unannounced? Should I wait for another in hopes that the doubts are less? Because living is learning, and i don't know anything- only what i've seen, and where my feet have walked, and my feet have not walked far (though further than most my age). In the pursuit of world knowledge, i learned one thing- the more i learn, the less i know, and the more i know, the more confused i become. What is my place on earth but just a dot? What is my influence but just one vote? And what is my pride, but a defense to my being, which in the scheme of all things makes no difference- (i'm convinced i'm important... oh wait... we're all convinced we're important...) Oh! I'm Condemned! We all are! it's a trick! a species such as ours, immersed in a world of six billion, only to believe we are all most important ourselves. what an odd creation I am. I reason myself sick, and chase all the wrongs things in my selfishness. How can I not?