Cosmic Signage

I need to stop looking for signs

The red rose on the sidewalk this morning is the same as the strangers floral dress in the coffee shop. I find it very easy to assign meaning to a reoccurring external that aligns with my internal. These patterns begin to weave over my eyes when I look at a thing and then another. Without knowing the pattern consumes all I see and I become blind. So I murdered the pattern, burned the whole damn colourful tapestry, and with it it’s purpose. Unknowingly murdering my purpose in it’s entirety. That warm blanket of purpose made of an illusion of patterns I carefully wove over years and believed in. But in seconds burned away. Now I see everything for no reason but that it is beautiful. But no reason for me.