Like everyone, I've always wondered what the meaning of life is. There are those who argue that it's love, that it's devotion, or some other type of -blam!-.
But I have come to my own deduction, of what life truly means.
Life...Life has no meaning. The universe itself started from nothing and thus it shall end in nothing. Our remains lie as food for the smaller organisms. Everything that makes us-from bone to blood-will be lost, to ruin and rubble. Just visitors in this forever expanding darkness.
But I do not see this as a reason to lose hope--more so--as a reason to perspire and move forward. For being able to think and deduct, and not be forced to use it for a certain purpose. But to make our own? Isn't that what makes man great? The universe has no reason for being, so why should we? What limits us to one god or one grace?
Perhaps I'm simply rambling...
 Kaida Snoe · Thu Nov 04, 2010 @ 04:53am · 1 Comments |
