To end the endless stream of thoughts, I try to end it — infinitely. But this is just grasping at the result, trying to erase it. The cause must be found. And yet — even the search for the cause is a thought.

Dissatisfaction. Dissatisfaction seems connected to thought and action.
What is dissatisfaction?

If satisfied —
Satisfaction.
It is satisfaction.

But observing as the observer — this seems far from truth.

The thing itself. And satisfaction.

Not understanding — love.
The only way to express love is through understanding.
It seems difficult.

And yet, it exists as one.
Satisfaction.

Is gratitude even necessary?

All of it — just separation, held together by the observer’s perspective.

The observer has disappeared.

Now — I know nothing.