A search for truth and knowledge comes up with nothing. Perhaps truth has become emptiness and a lack of thought.

My search begins much like it will end, with questions regarding the world and emptiness.
Am I going to search the world for the truth in time?
Or time in truth?
Explanations of time, like those in the (my) past (and future) writings convey a confusion of what reality is.
Time moves, then becomes still, empty of its reality only in concept because time has no form or substance.
It is what it is, a measurement to explain in thought and deed.

I was in a bar. I decided to begin with nothing again, as I am accustomed to. I do what comes natural; I watch people and make myself an outcast, by not talking.

Independence is its own reward, and I am in search of my crown, my crown of independence.

My friends claim to see it every once in awhile, my crown, floating above me like a halo, like I'm some sort of deity or saint. I am far from a saint.
I'm not sure what I am, most likely the fool.