A Definite ?

I wrote the following after realizing that I haven't posted here for a while because I haven't felt like I have a lot of definite things to say. Then I wondered if writing about all the things I wonder about, and even the unclosed wonder I feel when I am in nature, had merit too, even if it didn't have a definitive "point." In this piece I explore this idea. 

What if the journey was the point?
(photo by RhinoMind, via Wikimedia Commons)

A Declaration   ? 

When I sit down to write, I seek to write a declaration.  

But what if all I have are questions, wondering, a quest?  

I don't often have things to say that end in a satisfying period.  

More often they end in a ?  

What if, by writing, I sought to understand, rather than be understood?  

What if I looked for questions and intriguing riddles, unconcerned for a moment about the answers? 

What if I rejoiced in wonder? In raindrops and who cares why? 

What if I allow myself to sit in mystery and revel in the unknown, to note areas with shades darkness, and be unflapped about not knowing all of it? 

What if I threw up my arms in the air and cried, joyfully, "I have no idea!"? 

What if I sought to open all the books I could, and thus open my mind, rather than seeking to close it (I get it now, and that is that)? 

What if my quest didn't end at the end of a page, but rather launched from it? 

What if I was less consumed by the destination, and danced more as I traveled? What if enjoying the journey is the point, anyway?