obvious and apparent.
Meaning is formless invisible,
hidden and unspoken.
Meaning holds secret
the mystery.
Emotions are heartfelt -
a meaning urging to be filled.
Within every emotion a mind
in search of meaning.
* * *
Purpose stands in form, so clear,
A shape that all can see and hear.
Its edges sharp, its lines defined,
A map for all, a guide to find.
But meaning, quiet, hides away,
Invisible, it slips astray.
A secret kept in shadows deep,
A mystery it longs to keep.
Emotions rise, a silent call,
A longing whispered through it all.
The heart, it seeks, with tender plea,
A meaning wrapped in mystery.
Within each pulse, each beat of time,
A mind in search, a soul to climb,
To grasp what lies beyond the known,
To find the place where truth is grown.
* * *
In a quiet village nestled between the mountains and the sea, there lived a young woman named Lucy. She had always been drawn to the patterns of life, the shape of things, the order that existed beneath the surface. From a young age, she had been fascinated by the designs of the world—the way the sun set in the sky, how the trees curved their branches, how even the clouds held a certain shape. Everything seemed to have a purpose, a form that made sense, and she reveled in it.
But there was something else, something deeper, that Lucy couldn’t shake. She could see the shapes, the designs—the purpose—but there was an undercurrent, an energy that pulsed beneath it all.
It was the feeling of something more. Something unseen.
It was a sense of meaning. A formless, invisible current that seemed to thread through the very fabric of existence. No one else in the village seemed to notice it, or at least, no one spoke of it. But Lucy could feel it. She could feel it in her bones, in the way the wind would shift suddenly, in the way the ocean's waves would rise higher at dusk.
She wandered through the village one afternoon, feeling the pull of something hidden, like a distant song that only her heart could hear. As she passed by the market, an old woman, who sold dried herbs, caught her gaze. Her eyes were sharp and knowing, as if she'd seen the unseen.
"Lost in thought, child?" the old woman asked, her voice crackling like dry leaves.
Lucy nodded. "I don’t know," she replied. "I feel like I’m seeing something, but I don’t understand it."
The old woman’s lips curled into a slight smile, and she reached out, taking Lucy’s hand in hers. “Purpose is what you see with your eyes. Meaning is what you feel with your heart. They are not the same.”
Lucy’s brow furrowed. “But what is the meaning?” she asked. “I’ve always wondered… What does it all mean?”
The old woman’s eyes gleamed with something ancient. “That, my dear, is a mystery for you to solve. But know this: within every emotion you feel, every pulse of your heart, there is a search for meaning. Meaning is not something that is handed to you; it is something you must seek, something you must fill.”
With that, the woman released her hand, and Lucy was left standing at the edge of the marketplace, the world around her suddenly quieter, as if it too was listening.
That evening, as Lucy sat by the sea, watching the waves crash against the rocks, the old woman’s words echoed in her mind. The more she thought about it, the more she realized: the world had shape, it had purpose, but there was something that eluded her. The meaning.
She watched the horizon stretch endlessly before her. The sunset painted the sky in shades of pink and gold. And in that quiet moment, as the world around her seemed to pause, Lucy felt something stir within her. It was not a thought, not an idea, but a feeling—an understanding that meaning was not something that could be explained, not something that could be found through looking at the world in the usual way.
It was something to be felt. Something that could be grasped, but only for an instant, before it slipped away like the fleeting light of dusk.
And as she sat there, her heart full of longing for that elusive thing, she realized that the search itself was the meaning. It was the journey, the questions, the search for something deeper than what could be seen. That was the meaning, and it was in the very search that she found her purpose.
The mystery would never fully be revealed, but perhaps that was how it was meant to be. To search. To feel. To search again.
And as the night wrapped its cool embrace around her, Lucy smiled softly, knowing that, in that search, she had already found something. Something hidden. Something only the heart could understand.
* * *
Hugo stood at the edge of the forest, watching as the trees swayed gently in the breeze. The sky above was a soft, fading pink, a reminder that dusk was near. It was on days like this that the world seemed to speak to him in ways words never could. He didn’t know why he always came here, to this quiet place. Perhaps it was because the forest felt like a mirror to his soul—calm on the outside, but alive with something deeper, something hidden just beneath the surface.
He had always been drawn to purpose. Ever since he was a child, he had spent hours organizing his thoughts, building structures with his hands, trying to understand how things fit together. There was always a reason for everything, he believed. A plan. A shape.
But lately, it felt as if something was missing. Purpose, he knew, was visible—obvious, even. The way the earth grew the trees, the way the seasons changed, the way the birds flew south. These things had their form. Their reason. But something else had begun to tug at him, an invisible thread he couldn’t quite grasp.
Meaning. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he could feel its pull whenever he let himself be still. It wasn’t something that could be shaped or touched. It didn’t exist in the way purpose did, but it was there—somewhere. Hiding. Waiting.
He sat down on a fallen log, staring at the shadows lengthening across the ground. He had often heard people speak of emotions as if they were fleeting, like temporary bursts of energy that faded as quickly as they came. But to him, emotions felt different—more like a language, a language that carried meaning.
He remembered the feeling he had when he first met Camille, years ago. The way her laughter had felt like sunlight breaking through clouds, the way her presence had grounded him, as though she had just been a piece of a puzzle he hadn’t known was missing. There had been a meaning in that, an unspoken connection that seemed to fill the spaces between them in ways words never could. It was more than just love. It was something deeper, something that reached into the hidden places within him, places that had long been dormant.
But where had that feeling gone? Where had that sense of meaning gone, now that the distance between them had grown?
Hugo closed his eyes, letting the evening sounds wash over him—the chirp of crickets, the rustle of leaves, the distant call of an owl. There was a soft tug at his chest, a feeling he couldn’t explain. An urge to understand. An urge to fill that emptiness with something that mattered.
The quiet seemed to amplify in the stillness. And then, in a flash of thought, Hugo realized that meaning, like emotion, could not be captured by the mind alone. It wasn’t something to be grasped and held. Meaning wasn’t visible in the way purpose was. It wasn’t something that could be measured or defined. It was hidden, buried beneath the layers of the self, beneath the noise of everyday life.
He felt it then, a pull inside him—a call to search, to seek, not for something tangible, but for something that could only be understood through feeling. Through a deep, instinctual knowing.
A rustling sound interrupted his thoughts. He opened his eyes, and there she was. Camille.
She stood a few feet away, her figure framed by the fading light. Her face was soft, serene, but there was something in her eyes—something familiar. She didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, looking at him. And in that moment, Hugo felt that old connection stir again, that sense of meaning that had long been absent.
He stood up, the words catching in his throat. There were so many things he wanted to say, but they all felt like they would fall short. Instead, he just reached out, extending his hand to her. She took it without hesitation, and for a moment, they stood together in silence.
“I’ve been searching,” Hugo said finally, his voice soft, almost unsure. “For something. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like I’m missing it. Like something important is hidden.”
Camille smiled gently, her eyes full of understanding. “The search is the meaning, Hugo,” she said, her voice steady. “Sometimes, the meaning isn’t in the finding. It’s in the wanting. The longing. The search itself fills the space between what we know and what we’re still trying to understand. That’s what matters.”
Hugo looked at her, and in her eyes, he saw it—the same unspoken connection, the same hidden thread that had always been there. And in that moment, he understood. Meaning wasn’t something to be figured out, something to be found like a treasure. It was the journey. The question itself. The emotions that moved through him, that pushed him forward.
They stood there, hand in hand, the world around them bathed in twilight. The mystery of meaning was still out of reach, but it was no longer something to fear. It was something to embrace, something to follow, without the need to understand every step.
Together, they walked back toward the village, the path ahead lit only by the soft glow of the stars—silent, hidden, and full of possibility.
* * *
Designing the gap between divine omniscience
and mortal awareness
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. All rights reserved. Copyright © 2025 C.G. Garant.
