The “Question”

I fell into another dreamworld,

like so many times before,

back to the middle or high school years again,

trying to seek some Space Geometry answer…

Drawing a line in-between of a Right triangle,

figuring out how to descend a trajectory plane to its center gravity point,

from where I can retrieve back to the original source that all mass were created,

then, from that original spot to project two elliptic curves—

simulating Solar System planetary rotation of some orbiting platform,

first small, then large, both capturing the perfect spherical magnetic fields

each was designated for…

The math solution evolved on and on…

until I completely lost track of the original question,

until everyone participating the game was so mesmerized and lost as well…

The sophisticated evolution of a geometry puzzle,

transforming itself into a convoluted star constellation map,

expanding and evolving within a forever spinning milky way,

on and on…

I tried to capture this puzzle solving imaging onto my phone,

only to find out the phone screen was too small to capture the

strife dynamic among godlike deities behind the whole scheme--

Just like the storylines eons of Ancient Greek mythological

gods and goddesses were actively gripping,

among the unseen universal perplexing power-balancing of a grandiose orchestra…

Maybe that Space Analytic Geometry test that we were trying to solve

on this third dimensional plane,

was merely the reflected pixel frame of an ongoing,

multi-faceted, multi-dimension legendary saga.

Maybe all my classmates were as lost as me,

or maybe I was the only one who was aware of how lost I was,

while trying to untangle this intense mathematical test.

My wise middle school teacher suddenly showed up next to me in dream,

“If you couldn’t capture the image of the answer,

why don’t you take a shot for the question instead?”

Yes, that is true. So I turned around,

trying to find the place where the original question was written at.

It was disguised at some faraway corner of a hidden space,

an older gentleman is closely guarding the “Question” behind the scene,

as if it is a long forgotten dusty ancient shrine, that

no one could take a peek of it easily.

He asked me in a forbidding way: “why are you here?”

I answered him back with certainty: “I am willing to find the Question.”

He was shaken by the certainty of my determination, didn’t stop me any further.

I suddenly woke up from the dream,

finding myself so lost in a confounded way, while asking myself inside my head:

What is the question that I need to ask the self?

Why I’d been shunning away from the question my whole life?

Why the resistance had been so strong of a push that

I barely had any time to rest and be myself?

And how it would feel like to be myself?

Why I’d been waiting so long for someone to throw the answer at me,

while I myself didn’t even see my own question clearly?

Why the struggle was so fierce that I barely able to live a truly fulfilled life?

Who am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose? And what should be my next move?

“My wise ancient ancestors,

please siren at my ears

the sound of your wisdom flute,

awaken my heart out of this century-long amnesia, so that

I could finally become aware of the very Question that can

reveal my true predestined quest on earth.”