No thing can be destroyed, it can only change form. This is scientific law. Matter and anti matter revel in the universal centrifuge while strings vibrate and sing barely aware of their unified form(s). Does this bring me comfort as forests yield to fields and fields give way to malls? Does this ease the discoloration of water as it changes from clear to gray to black? Do the souls of billions of crustaceans rest any easier knowing that their labors have provided the essential compounds to cement a wall or power a Ferrari? I think not. Our world is unchanging, even as it thrusts itself towards eclipse. Our changes are merely rearrangements of elements which care little for our manipulations.
Yet still, the song of the clay colored robin brings to my heart a joy that I believe can be sensed by strings and cells, while the silent movements of clouds slipping through my open window affect even the most stubborn gray matter, causing not change, but rather expansion. It is felt, even experienced on a level beyond simple physical and chemical change. This is what, in the swirl of activity, reformation and pollution, matters most. I am glad to be here to experience it.
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