In a single wink one morning becomes intrepid, so common is to be human! That we do not understand that time does not seek to crush your hopes, it is enough to know that we are the fruit of creation, mortality that defines us as an identity full of defects and that we do not know what we may consider according to our understanding.
Our existence simplifies the search but our vital chronometer teaches answers, however the reason "Why we are here" clings us to philosophizing indeterminate questions.
We are not what we speculate, we are distant from clarifying what it takes to procure true. Are we calculating a personalized imagination? Or simply chiseled by a pair of wings from where nobody belongs but which by way of conviction you almost manage to deserve, that precious place that exemplifies the eternal perfection where neither happiness nor love were created feelings have always been. There is no logic that designs these beliefs, escapes from a common sense that highlights the simplicity of our nature.
We are not aware of being, we are absent of having been.