Wondering

I wonder about a lot of things. Sometimes I wonder so much that I have to block out my questions before they overwhelm me entirely, filling my mind so there’s no room for anything besides queries and doubt and uncertainty. Because some of my questions will never be answered, so it’s no use asking them in the first place.

And yet, I can’t help it. I wonder. Why is the sky blue? No, why do we see color? Why is there wind? Why are there clouds? Why is there a universe? Why is there space? 

But most of all, how come we can ask these things in the first place? Why do our brains work the way they do? Where do thoughts come from? 

Yes, I know that there are scientific answers for almost all of these questions. And if I were to dedicate my life to studying and learning about the universe’s secrets, maybe I would finally understand how everything works. Honestly though, no matter how curious I am, I don’t really want to spend the rest of my life chasing mysteries. 

It’s not because I’m not inquisitive or ambitious enough. Maybe . . . it’s because searching for answers might result in success. And that would extinguish the magic. Because right now everything I don’t understand, everything I wonder about, isn’t just an irritatingly unsolvable puzzle. It’s magic.