Wandering lost

As I searched for love in mountains and seas, cities and neighboring homes, alleys and boulevards, I stumbled and fell to a place I thought to be despair. 

An underground city, no, perhaps it wasn't a city, but a place full of eccentricities.

There were no opposites nor similarities, synonyms nor antonyms, light nor dark, up nor down, a place that my words could never describe.

I wandered and marveled for everything was new yet everything seemed familiar too. 

There were still no signs of stalagmites and stalactites? Perhaps there were hints of excitement and enlightenment? I would never know for I think I am lost.

An underground place, I see creatures with no clear form, devoid of predictable patterns.

Sometimes they would dance then sing, laugh then cry, fight then hug, build and destroy, ignore and salute, dies and arises, maybe there's a pattern, but I would never know for all I do is think. 

I am truly lost, yet what if I'm not? What if one cannot be lost if there is no destination?

What if this place is a journey? To wander without wonder, move without thoughts, feel without query, forward without fear, no perhaps, no what ifs. 

What if I let the body move without thought and logic? What if I a-... I am not lost for I'm on a journey. A trip of uncertainty. To let it be, no future nor past. Only the present, for that, is me.

As I thought I was lost in this underground city, I stumbled and fell into a place that is love.