The Pilgrim Ruminates:

“Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter,” wrote British poet John Keats, and how true! As human, we tend to hanker after things which are unattainable; which do not exist — like God, for example, or happiness, or love. Instead of counting the blessings, we count the curses. Instead of being happy with what we have found, we look for things which are lost. This is our tragedy. This is the tragedy of the human race, and this is my personal tragedy. My life has been a series of events that did not take place. Instead of looking ahead, I am, as if, sitting on the last seat of an empty bus, looking behind at the road that the bus had just passed by — oh, those flowers, that tree, that ingeniously-shaped stone, that milestone, those beautiful people waiving at me. I cannot even decide to ask the driver of the bus to stop so that I can get down and join them. By the time I make the decision, I have already crossed them, to find, to see, another wonderment, and to face another indecision, and to carry on, just like I always did. Lost.