Is there peace without chaos?
Is there love without hatred?
Is there kindness without cruelty?
Is there life without death?
Is there a villain without love scorned?
Is there a home if you've never had one?; for how can anything be without absence?
How can anything be without another?
How could we or anything ever identify itself without acknowledging the other?
Who are we without our contradictions?
My answer doesn't take much pondering; for it is simple.
We are silence at our best or moving sound; little dots of contradictory dichotomy that float haphazardly through a random and dark void filled with only what we can perceive.
We are everything and nothing all at one once; following our constructs to best blot out the confusion of existence, always scrambling to find purpose that which we deem satisfactory.
We are confusion and clarity and the lack thereof.
We are the smudging of simplicity; adding meaning in places where none is required, yet relishing the meaning we find in the useless and improbable empty spaces that we give meaning.
We are up and down, left and right, darkness and light.
We are unquestionable and refutable, ambiguity and clarity, wrongness and right.
We are blankness and ink-filled, dryness and moisture, feminine and masculine.
We are written and spoken word.
We are both and neither.
We are the with and the without.
We are.
