Once again for not the last time, the child was sitting about in wonderment of their course. To the idea that the inquiring course is most productive, it does nothing for those who question without answer. For those who eternally wander with wonderment, to those who eternally wonder without wandering, an answer can not be found. However those who wonder in wanderment and wander and wonderment often trip upon the snags in their path whilst their heads lie high and low within the clouds and Earth. To the point that one must wander and watch, to gaze upon where one treds, they've not a chance to wonder as to why they wander, but to keep wandering. To the point that one must wonder and lie idly, to gaze about the obscurities of the world and watch with awe at its formation and decomposition, they're bound by will-less transportation not to wander about. To those who accomplish wonderment and wanderment, they witness a great deal but for what lies behind them.

The bird to wander, the person to wonder, the clouds to accomplish both yet understand none of it. Wishing to be what they are not, yet not acknowledging what they are or refusing to do so under such status. The bird to wander about free, uninhibited by geology, but bound to keep wandering as the suns and moons. No time to wonder whilst they wander for upon doing so the reality crushes them. The person to wonder eternally, uninhibited by necessities, but bound to the Earth as the mountains and trees. No way to wander whilst they wonder for upon doing so, they fall. The clouds to wonder and wander forever and wherever, uninhibited by reality, but never to care as the wind and seas. No way to understand or care to understand for upon such an accomplished task, they cease to be. The child drifts off, wondering how it feels to wander, wondering how it feels to be free, to wander in wonderment, to wonder in wanderment, to be uninhibited by reality...