Astronaut In Art


And when the rocks turn into dust, the millennial occurs. Who pays attention there? Nobody, it’s merely another process in the fabric of spacetime. Delusional, relative, there’re numerous handsome attributes available to describe the world, yet not a single so far, alone, is precise enough. Language has its limitations, truth. It’s often the satisfaction that question’s the dignity of the language. It’s incompleteness. Homo sapiens are not the perfect species, naturally for them so, nothing is perfect out there.

We see the world as flawed yet beautiful. We balance everything. Indeed, it’s the energy upright from the big bang, balancing everything in the cosmos. With the black and the white composing present, the grey. Math can describe the world using expressions, but we still can’t comprehend things we can’t imagine. These things are waiting for us, so we find them. EUREKA EUREKA!

From where that energy of curiosity lands into our naive soul, we assert as consciousness. Rumsfeld stated, there are known knowns, there are known unknowns & there are unknown unknowns. The quality of the brain, or should I assume it’s the quality of the mind, that makes us ponder about things that don’t even exist, divine. We are born from some molecules, maybe helium? They are just particles. How come we then settled up with such complexity.

The odds that can turn an entire planet into one living thing must come from some serious energy, alien more and god, less. The god exists, but again the question of origin that haunts, we created cultures and religion to protect us then. The rituals, that take our body and brain into harmony. The science broke it all, creating havoc. Maybe one day we will discover everything, or perhaps we will end up accepting the meaninglessness, but the energy, that never dies where it goes? Am I the part of the shooting star that I just saw in the sky? Who knows. Who cares. These statements differentiate us from the true wanderers. It’s strange. We control ourselves, don’t we?

I am waving, waving in the solace of unending patterns. Waving to seek what is seeking me, Waving to sought who chose me, Waving in the waves of the universe, that often sprinkles glimpses of multiverses. I am waving, denying constraints of space and time. I am waving, for the unknown to the unknown, breathing in the fabric of the unexplored. I am waving in the enigmatic winds. The trees around me don’t dance tho, they shine. The birds around me don’t chirp, tho they burn. There are no fruits & there are no flowers, it’s just me, waving.

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