There is a rhythm to a life, a day, a moment, a year — find the rhythm, the timing, the beat, and you are on your way to a poem, a song, a story, a book — find the rhythm and you unlock a certain something that cannot be described in words but many words will likely flow anyway, enough that the reader says, “I think I understand,” or better, “I understand.”
The understanding will be different from the intent, but it will be close enough.
Life is a series of random events, and so awareness is a series of random scenes, all in a row, and we constantly try to make sense and order of it, reaching certain conclusions that seem less certain every day.
I don’t know if I have any answers, except to say precise answers may not exist to the point of certainty, and maybe the purpose of our lives is to keep asking the questions, in order to stay fresh and inquiring and curious.