careful of the vast landscape

There's some sort of certain completeness that we're all not sure we're looking for almost all of the time.  It's a half-way all-the-time type of feeling, rightfully right like slotting your puzzle self into its place.  Click your shoulders back, straighten your spine, smooth your hair, cock your head to the side.  We're ambiguous at best and probably lost if it gets any worse, marching into place and in place.

I guess what I'm saying (I never know what I'm saying) is that there's a sense that everything might make sense.  Somehow we're looking for something to be sure about and meanwhile we're just not sure what that might be.  You might say it's a beautiful wonder and a beautiful wander, too, but I think sometimes I'd prefer illumination to beauty.  Turn on the floodlights, universe.  I can't complain about the wait (it hasn't been long) but I'm getting tired of searching and getting tired of feeling like I should be searching, too.