For as long as satisfaction remains fleeting, committing the heart appears fruitless.
We have what we need, yet we still seek.
Perhaps, we create our own thirst and then fall into the illusion of drought along the way.
Perhaps we have no intention of committing to that which we find and are momentarily satisfied with.
Perhaps this is the memory of life. We forget what we seek, we forget what we find.
Since finding does not quench the endeavours of seeking, drinking from the well that needs nothing at all seems a more pleasing remedy.
For as long as satisfaction remains a destination, we will be forever unsatisfied seekers.