The irony of beings with life living on things fallen and dead, like serene music orchestrated by life's law following a directive called "existing," at some point all will fall, from astronomical down to molecular forms, but in the ashes of space life will take its form; we ourselves are from non-living but existing materials; we are born from the gore of stars. For millennia to come, evolution is restricted to the process of existence; such life is bound to limits, like Conway's Game of Life, where cells given simple instructions of reproduction and destruction birthed minimal autonomous life, yet the only judgment from its limits is within us; we know it is limited by basic rules because of the fact that we are far from "basic rules." We can dance, sing, write, and do many more things, but how do we know we are not imprisoned by reality's laws? Going back to many millions of years, when our so called abilities were just mere smelling and taste, no li...
Greetings to Society
My content is largely based on rationalism given a precise point due to some unknown forces, suggesting a hidden struggle.