It really is a curious thing, isn’t it?
As soon as you think you have it, it’s gone.
One minute you’ve grasped it, the next it’s slipped through your fingers.
It likes to be chased, but never to be caught.
It is always running, but to where?
It sits, but upon what?
I climb a mountain so that I may hear it, only to find that it has moved to the depths.
I search the deep waters, but it has risen to the heavens.
I swing on the branches of the Tree, but it lurks in the roots.
I dig up the roots, but it is in the seed.
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