Circumstantial Wonderment

Forever is a long time - I wouldn't want to do anything for that long period. Except maybe to write what lies within, even though, words may run out of rhymes in future thoughts. Life will continue to begin, grow and end with each being coming into existence. Circumstantial living will always remain a mystery, even if one could forever live on earth. Mere mortals, we cannot solve mysteries of our being - cannot fathom abysses of existence or knowledge. What do our thoughts consist of? We are all unknowing, trying to fathom ourselves from nothing. Our minds cannot delve pages of ourselves or realities of creation. Why then do we constantly try to imagine answers to questions that do not yet exist? Where does meaning lie in that? Fraught with our own ignorance in many things, how have we learned what we have so far?