in the night, we're spilling light all over the darkness of this planet. spots and specks of civilization in an otherwise vast empty void of negation. the numbers that define our realm of existence are so mindbogglingly huge
, our little bit of glow we have been able to produce on this planet so paper thin - it is almost ridiculous to realize that we've actually already have changed the climate of our planet.
nevertheless, we're still trying not to leave any footprints, close the door and turn off the light when we leave, get carbon neutral, get even with nature (as if nature would want to get even with us!) and humbly be happy with whatever breadcrumbs we can snap from the big table of the gods, filled with grandiose glitter and hot burning passion.
as long as humanity, ashamed of itself, just buckles down beneath the gods, we will always just spill, always just waste, always mere walk into darkness, with a tiny flickering light of ourselves to guard us through the mad conundrum that we call universe. and we'll be hum-bumming along with rules and with laws, with headache producing, futile attempts to understand, why, what, where, how - while entropy slowly consumes us away. nobody cares, not about us. nobody needs to, except each and every of you.
come as you are. there is no joneses to keep up with.