In a most perverse manner, through an unholy amalgam of attraction and revulsion, the universe is obliged to become the very thing it most detests, but secretly admires. The system that governs all runs on pure anarchy, making a mockery of each and every attempt to illustrate any method at the heart of the chaos surrounding us at some completely.
The illusion of sensible continuity has always been our intellectual sanctuary from the conscious abandonment of any hope of a long-term certainty, the utter implausibility of even recognizing or admitting to the possibility of elimination, extinction, substitution, surrogacy. The thought that this top dog might be just a stepping stone upon the pathway to the great unveiling of a newer improved prime beast, atomical, vegetable, or mechanical, if indeed derived from stock presently occupying this comparatively unimportant spinning sphere lost in the periphery of space and time.
But now I must stop, for such grandiose contemplations are inclined to make my brain hurt.
Daily Abstract Thoughts 