Existing is a very beautiful thing.
To realize how insignificant we are,
how insignificant our species is,
merely look at the life of our planet
in the scale of geologic time.
The stages of its life are quantified
in terms of Eons, which divide into
Eras, which divide into Periods,
which divide into Epochs, which
divide into Ages, all of which are
folded into the Supereon. My life
will only span decades. It will divide
into individual years, which divides
into months, which divides into weeks,
which divides into seven days, which
divides into hours, which divides into
minutes, which divides into seconds.
All of which fold into the total life
experience at the time of my death.
I do not worry about my death,
it will come to me at its time. It will
come to you at your time. And in
time, our home will die as well.
This does not make me sad. It is
the cycle of existence wrought
on a scale that dwarfs the physical
limitations of everything our minds
can comprehend. Existence and time
are the great and even hands of
the universe. Everything matters now.
Everything won't always matter.
How still will the universe be
at the moment the lights turn off
once more?
