The Perfect Circle

neither created nor destroyed 

like the winds still

the silent sound of these words rings:

we will live forever

Questions and answers are like Yin and Yang; both are part of the same construct. Opposites that give each other character. Just like a light that gives us knowledge about our surrounding darkness. 

Caterpillars to get from one place to another by contracting and expanding to push forward. If you take the motion as an analogue for how ideas give way to better ones, questions are the contractions and answers are the expansions. 

Questions make the unknown known and answers lead to better questions.

So a caterpillar goes on about its day. Voraciously feeding itself. Doing what it feels is right. Becoming the cocoon and eventually the butterfly. The butterfly causes a tornado. The tornado uproots a tree.

Moral of the story: Today you might feel like a little caterpillar. But keep pushing forward. Keep chewing through the bitter leaves. One day you will be flying. Sipping on nectar..

And one day, you’ll get there.

Stardust, you and I

Had a little while together

In our infinite lives

Maybe we will bump into each other

but for now this is goodbye.

I
No single thing abides; but all things flow.
Fragment to fragment clings—the things thus grow
Until we know and name them. By degrees
They melt, and are no more the things we know.

II
Globed from the atoms falling slow or swift
I see the suns, I see the systems lift
Their forms; and even the systems and the suns
Shall go back slowly to the eternal drift.

III
Thou soo, oh earth—thine empires, lands, and seas—
Least, with thy stars, of all the galaxies,
Globed from the drift like these, like these thou too
Shalt go. Thou art going, hour by hour, like these.

VI
Observe this dew-drenched rose of Tyrian grain—
A rose today. But you will ask in vain
Tomorrow what it is; and yesterday
It was the dust, the sunshine and the rain.

VII
This bowl of milk, the pitch on yonder jar,
Are strange and far-bound travelers come from far
This is a snow-flake that was once a flame—
The flame was once the fragment of a star.

X
Where is the coolness when no cool winds blow?
Where is the music when the lute lies low?
Are not the redness and the red rose one,
And the snow’s whiteness one thing with the snow?

XII
For, as our limbs and organs all unite
to make our sum of suffering and delight,
And without eyes and ears and touch and tongue,
Were no such things as taste and sound and sight.

XIX
The seeds that once were we take flight and fly,
Winnowed to earth, or whirled along the sky,
Not lost but disunited. Life lives on.
It is the lives, the lives, the lives, that die.

- Lucretius (translated by W. H. Mallock)