On some days I see every shape, form, no matter how arcane with a new intensity.
Ordinary everyday things like a tongue and groove joint take on a new significance and beauty.
Everything is merely a filled hole in space.
I've no idea who or why I am, in in this collection of living, dying humanoid cells?
Where did my mortal consciousness originate?
Who decided that my parentage would spawn me in this life form?
Why not a tortoise or a bird? Seems bloody unfair on them if you ask me.
Side by side, ignorance and evil perform a grotesque dance with genius and magnanimity like flickering flames in a fire. Neither can extinguish the other.
All I can do is look on in fascination at the machinations of humanity and the unstoppable evolution of the universe around us.
Nothing at all makes sense. There is only chaos and the craving for knowledge, to understand, to create order out of it. It can never succeed, because the more answers we find the more questions arise.
And when the end arrives it will all be done and dusted,
Even the memories soon die.
A meaningless, futile window on the universe will close.
Life is a far greater tragedy than death.
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