Unknown

I find that the more I try to desperately grasp at the things I can't comprehend, the more I don't understand it. As though trying to make sense of the unknown is like trying to catch smoke, and the harder I try, the tighter I grasp, the more that it slips through my fingers.

Even as a child I held some coherency toward the subject, for I was never afraid of the dark, but what was in it. For I did not understand what lay hidden in the shadows that the moon and stars could not lend light to. Sounds at night unnerved me and set me on edge for I could not find reason for sounds to be heard during silent nights. My mind could not keep up with the reasoning that the noise could have easily been explained; a deer walking by, an owl taking flight, a car parking, a book falling, nothing registered to my mind. For it's only focus was that of the unknown, and the monsters it resembled.

Now I know the unknown is not something to fear, but cherish. To revel in what is not known is a wondrous pass time and allows creativity to flow to answer such simple questions.

But it still sets me on edge.