The Mystery of the Deep

Mystery fiction
Image by bricolage.108 via Flickr

Here is something to think about.

I look at a car, my computer, a cup or something we humans have made up, we are filled with the same information. We know what cars are made up. There are magazines that talk about that. Their rims, the latest engines and all that. I’m not much of an automobile buff, which is sad because that might undermine my masculinity, but yes, all the same information crops up. If you read enough, you’ll know enough. I mean we can’t do much to adorn them with our affection. This is where words come in, or rather our emotions infused with words that is. I mean, have you read a beautiful description of how a car is made up with it’s parts?

But channel this to something that borders to the lines of mystery, and what do you get? Beautiful words thread together in emotional wonder. Things like pain baffles us but people can come up with beautiful reflections when they try to describe their feelings. Love is also a mystery. So there are constant thoughts written to convey what it means. A person we have affection for also becomes the subject of our words laden in wonder.

It is something baffling at times when I reflect this. What we can describe and know for sure, with touch and sight, we have not many traces of beautiful reflection for. And what we find as mystery, and try to conjure meaningful description, that we can shower with thoughts that can lead to eternity.

Deep things are ladened in mystery. Deep things propel our minds to wonder. Deep things, we shall not run out of words that speak to explain their beauty and importance. For deep conjure mystery. Deep propel us to orbit space and know we never can fully embrace it’s vastness. Deep is like gazing the surface of the sea and knowing that in the depths lies still, a mystery our minds will never fill.

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