In form,
meaning has taken its purpose and is full.
Purpose is the unmaking of meaning
and meaning the unmaking of purpose.
The emptying of the two into form
appears to be formless.
The form is neither and both.
Within the moving union of every form
is the stillness of meaning and purpose.
Any endeavor to distinguish between them
is an attempt to label a transient event
appearing in relative time and space.
Always look at form very simply,
very appreciatively,
and very ordinarily
to discover its true magic.
* * *
In form, meaning finds its purpose whole,
A dance of lines and shapes that makes the soul.
But purpose, like the breath, undoes its truth—
While meaning fades, and takes its fleeting youth.
Two forces spin, yet never touch the ground,
The space between, where neither's fully found.
The emptiness within each shifting frame,
Is where both rest unnamed and yet the same.
Stillness dwells where motion spins its thread,
In every form, the quiet voice is led.
To label time or space is but a dream—
A fleeting echo of a constant stream.
So look at form with simple, humble eyes,
And see the magic, silent as the skies.
For in the ordinary, the world unfolds,
A truth beyond what time or mind controls.
* * *
Once upon a time, in a quiet village nestled between misty mountains, there lived an old storyteller named Elara. She was known far and wide not for the tales she told, but for the way she could make the world itself feel like a story, full of mystery and wonder. People came from all around to listen to her speak, hoping to understand the deeper meaning of life, but they often left with more questions than answers.
One evening, a young traveler named Kael came to the village. He was a curious soul, always seeking the truth behind the mysteries of the world. Hearing about Elara’s wisdom, he sought her out. When he found her, she was sitting at the edge of a river, watching the water flow over the smooth stones, her gaze calm and steady. He approached her and asked, “Grandmother Elara, I have spent my life searching for meaning. But I am beginning to wonder if I will ever truly understand what it is. Can you help me?”
Elara smiled softly, her eyes sparkling with a secret knowledge. “Meaning, my dear Kael, is not something you can find by seeking it directly. It is like the water in this river. You cannot grasp the river itself by reaching into it. Yet, you can drink from it, let it wash over you, and feel its flow. In this way, meaning has already found its place within you, just as the river finds its place in the earth.”
Kael sat beside her, still not fully understanding. “But what of purpose? I know that I must have a purpose, a reason for being. If meaning is like the river, then what is purpose?”
Elara paused and then, with a gesture that seemed to embrace the world itself, said, “Purpose is not separate from meaning, though it may appear so at times. Purpose is like the movement of the river. It gives form to the flow, yet it is the river itself that carries it forward. Without the stillness of the water, the river cannot move; and without the movement, the stillness is not truly still. Purpose and meaning are two sides of the same coin.”
She watched Kael as he processed her words, then continued, “Many spend their lives trying to separate meaning from purpose, as if they are two different things. But when you try to grasp either one, they slip away, like water slipping through your fingers. They are not meant to be separate. Instead, they dance together, creating form and movement, stillness and change. And when you look at form—whether it is a stone, a tree, or a person—if you look at it simply, appreciatively, and ordinarily, you will see that there is magic in it. A magic that exists beyond the need for explanation.”
Kael sat silently for a long time, watching the river. The sun was setting, casting a soft golden glow over the water. In that moment, he began to see the truth in Elara’s words. The river was not merely a flow of water; it was the very essence of life, a constant balance between stillness and movement, between purpose and meaning.
As the evening drew on, Elara stood and stretched, her old bones creaking like the branches of a tree. “The world,” she said with a knowing smile, “is full of forms, each one carrying within it both the stillness of meaning and the movement of purpose. Your job, dear Kael, is not to chase after them, but to appreciate them as they are.”
With that, Kael left the riverbank, his heart lighter, his mind clearer. The answers he sought had not been given to him in the way he expected. Instead, they had found him in the quiet simplicity of the world around him. From that day forward, he looked at everything—whether stone, sky, or person—with a new sense of appreciation, understanding that true magic lay not in grasping meaning or purpose, but in recognizing the harmony between them.
And so, the village, the river, and Elara’s words continued to flow through Kael’s life, teaching him that meaning and purpose are not separate things to be pursued, but an ever-present union to be experienced, simply and fully, in every moment.
* * *
Lena stood in the empty gallery, her fingers gently brushing the smooth edge of the latest sculpture—an abstract piece made of metal, stretching and twisting into shapes that seemed impossible yet real. She had been coming to the museum for weeks now, each visit filling her with the same quiet awe. The work was magnificent in its complexity, but it was also elusive. It seemed to mean something, but no matter how closely she looked, the meaning slipped through her fingers like water.
She sighed softly, gazing at the pieces around her—each one a dance of form and substance, each one pulling her in with its promises of understanding. But each time, the same question arose in her mind: What am I missing?
A figure entered the gallery, a man she hadn’t noticed before. He seemed out of place—too casual for such a refined setting. His eyes, however, were focused, as if he had come here with a purpose, and not just to admire the art but to understand it. He stopped beside her, glancing at the same sculpture she was examining.
"It's strange, isn't it?" he said, breaking the silence. "You look at something like this and you know it’s supposed to mean something. But the more you try to define it, the more it slips away."
Lena nodded, a little surprised by the way he put it. "Yes. It feels like there’s something there, but it keeps fading. I can’t put my finger on it."
He smiled softly, eyes twinkling with a quiet kind of wisdom. "I think that’s the point."
"The point?"
"Form without meaning, meaning without form. They need each other to exist, but they never fully meet. If you try to capture meaning in form, it’s like trying to hold water in your hands."
Lena felt a little discomfort at that, as if his words had struck something deep within her. "But isn’t that frustrating? To know there’s something, but never quite see it?"
"It’s not about seeing it," he said, moving closer to the sculpture. "It’s about feeling it. The space between the forms, the quietness in the motion—that’s where the truth lies. It’s a dance, not a puzzle."
He gestured to the space between the twisting lines of the sculpture, the shadows that shifted with the changing light. "When you stop trying to define it, that’s when you begin to see it for what it really is."
Lena looked at the sculpture again, but this time, her gaze softened. She stopped trying to make sense of the jagged edges and fluid curves. Instead, she felt the stillness between them—the way the light shifted, and the shadows held their breath. It was like the sculpture was breathing, and in that moment, she realized the truth wasn’t in the form or the meaning. It was in the space between them, the emptiness that made them both possible.
"It's beautiful," she whispered.
He nodded, as if he’d known all along. "Sometimes, the most profound truths are the ones that cannot be named, the ones that live between the lines."
She stood there for a while, the quiet filling her, the stillness of the space stretching out around her like an open sky. And for the first time, she understood. The sculpture had no fixed meaning because it wasn’t meant to be understood in the way she had been trying. It was meant to be felt.
And in that feeling, she saw the magic.
As the man turned to leave, Lena stayed where she was, her eyes tracing the lines and shapes of the sculpture once more. But now, she no longer sought meaning in the form. She simply let the stillness wash over her, like the breath of the world itself.
And in the quiet, she knew that in the ordinary, the world had unfolded its truth.
* * *
Bridging the gap between omniscience
and mortal awareness.
Edited:
Find your truth. Know your mind. Follow your heart. Love eternal will not be denied. Discernment is an integral part of self-mastery. You may share this post on a non-commercial basis, the author and URL to be included. Please note … posts are continually being edited. All rights reserved. Copyright © 2025 C.G. Garant.
