I searched for it in books,
ivory towers lined up on a shelf,
pages filled with answers
too small to hold infinity.
But I’ll never know the ocean
by tracing waves on a page.
I need to wade in,
feel the pull of the tide,
taste the salt on my lips,
and let the current carry me
to places reason never could.
When logic fails,
something undeniable stirs,
something that was always there,
waiting for me to let go,
to stop thinking,
to start feeling.
And I've found something
bigger than myself.
Not an equation to solve
or a theorem to prove,
but a presence.
Like standing in sunlight
after a long winter,
warmth doesn't need proof
to be real.
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