The Universe is as fluid as air. It's not containable. It's not definable except through direct experience. It goes where it wants. It explores without apology.
At one point in your life, you were well behaved. And then, one day you made a choice that wrecked everything. It destroyed what felt like peace, but wasn't and never had been. This choice vaulted you into discomfort. It made your life look crooked. You sensed it would, this choice you had to make. But you couldn't stay any longer. To do so would have made your life a prison.
So, you left. You escaped out a door you kicked in the wall, threw all your money to the first needy person you met and started walking down a long, meandering path.
Since that day, you've wandered. You've roamed. You've experimented. You've had your hands slapped, your feet bruised and your ears boxed. You've been hungry, thirsty and cold.
But you're still here, a testament to Universal mercy.
On more than one occasion, those who you once shared your life with, found you.
"Get back home! Now!" they ordered.
It was tempting to return. Once, you even went back to look at the old house where you used to live. You saw the hole you'd once kicked in the wall. Only a little child could squeeze into it now.
"I used to live in such a small space?" you asked yourself. Shrugging, you continued down the road.
Then it hit you: you are the Universe, as wild as the wind. As undefinable as the edges of a ghost. As beautiful as a starry sky in the deepest, moonless wilderness night. You are home. You always were, and you'll never be anywhere else.
Please, Wanderer, keep walking. Tell us of your life. We need to hear your stories from the road. We need to know that we can escape, too.
(Amazing photo: "Wandering In The Lake of the Night" by Giova Tibaldi)