Who am I?
Some days, the proportions and lines seem little off. Things appear larger than they are, while others quietly slip out of view.
I find myself measuring, rearranging, comparing, trying to make sense of things that were never on the same scale. Perhaps the fault lies in where I choose to stand.
How easily a narrow view mistakes itself for the whole picture. How quickly an opinion takes shape and calls itself understanding. As if this world is mine, and as if I forgot all of these stuffs are in His authority.
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I wonder how often I have mistaken my own measure for something greater than itself, or let a passing thought stand where certainty should not.
There is still much to learn about seeing without assuming, knowing without possessing, and understanding without needing to have the final word.
I wish, when clarity comes, may it amount to more than recognition. May it quietly find its way into the way I move, the things I choose, and the things I leave alone.
For there is a fine line, between seeking and overreaching, between discernment and presumption. Perhaps, not every distance is mine to cross, not every silence is mine to fill, and not every answer is mine to arrive at.
Somewhere between what i can see and what remains beyond it, I suppose there is still much to put into perspective.
Who am I, anyway?
