In a cosmos shrouded in illusion and paradoxical half-truths I often find myself up late at night peering into the darkness and searching for but a glimmer of light — contemplating the intricate complexities of the cosmos.
Many have bought the illusion that security can be attained by submitting oneself to the rigid structure of society. Nonetheless, those who submit are neither free nor secure, they have only integrated into the illusion and live a secure life, thinking they are free.
Take heed, for the age of the technological overman is nigh. The bridge has been built and the time has come for us to make the great crossing and fully realize our potential.
As Sagan put it: “We are like butterflies who flutter for a day and think it is forever.”
Fate is the doctrine of the herd, yet the cyclical postmodern world of relativity seems to bleed disillusionment — a certain nihilistic streak that infects those who cross the threshold and begin to ponder their very own existence and even poke the fabric of reality itself.
We are lost in a collective dreamworld, scurrying about here and there, collecting little trinkets of no real intrinsic value, and yes, always feeding the machine. Now let us keep this iridescent carnival ride alive by embracing both the highs and the lows, let us dream the impossible dream — and like the butterfly — return to the stars.