Travelling home on a train in moments of personal reflection, I wrote:
I am neither good nor bad; assuming I know what constitutes such. I am incomplete, can one be complete? Seems all is in a state of perpetual flux, searching amid moving ever-changing environs inside and out, not the I am lost, far from it. This I know, I know I am, I exist, I am energy of such volume as to constitute discernable matter, mass if you will. I am everything and nothing; I am past, present and future in any given earthly moment.
Could such thoughts, such introspection signal growth, maturity, wisdom?
Sapientia et Doctrina