(no subject)
Lately I've come out of my busy mind to find myself missing home. Trouble is, I AM home. Chicago is orbiting into winter, and as that happens I'm forcibly reminded of all the past winters I've spent in my past homes.
If time was truly a line (as the calendars would lead us to believe), all those past winters and past homes would still exist somewhere. SOMEWHERE I'd still be everywhere I've ever been. And if that's the case, I'd find a way to smush them all together into the present... if I wasn't such a tiny speck.
Some tiny specks prefer to call themselves "scientists," and some of those scientists--as their name suggests-- believe in a god named Science who can justify the universe's existence. While the honest ones examined their surroundings to find ultimate Truth, others INVENTED (key word) formulas to explain away and cope with what they saw. I'm beginning to suspect that the latter took existence, stretched it out, drew lines on it, and slapped it on a glossy calendar to help themselves deny the idea that some invisible monster was effortlessly creating the future and gobbling up the past.
That idea may be truth. If so, the only thing left of it is an impression in mankind's brain tissue.
That would be a tough one to accept.
If time was truly a line (as the calendars would lead us to believe), all those past winters and past homes would still exist somewhere. SOMEWHERE I'd still be everywhere I've ever been. And if that's the case, I'd find a way to smush them all together into the present... if I wasn't such a tiny speck.
Some tiny specks prefer to call themselves "scientists," and some of those scientists--as their name suggests-- believe in a god named Science who can justify the universe's existence. While the honest ones examined their surroundings to find ultimate Truth, others INVENTED (key word) formulas to explain away and cope with what they saw. I'm beginning to suspect that the latter took existence, stretched it out, drew lines on it, and slapped it on a glossy calendar to help themselves deny the idea that some invisible monster was effortlessly creating the future and gobbling up the past.
That idea may be truth. If so, the only thing left of it is an impression in mankind's brain tissue.
That would be a tough one to accept.