I turn the box this way and that. My conundrum, my quagmire, my little colorless rubik's cube. Logic itches to solve it, my heart aches to search inside, but neither can penetrate the perplexing puzzle. Not enough data to analyze. Not enough intuition to feel. Maybe I wouldn't be here, if I could read people and their actions better. I am trying to trust and have faith that there is love, tucked safely away in this box, this peculiar situation. But there is no writing on this box, no label giving name to its secrets. So, I'm just stuck between moments. Just stuck, sitting...turning the box in futility.