Life is Chaos

Life is the endless potential, the limitless possibility that is dissected, amputated, and reproduced from the primordial organism of Chaos…

A marriage of merging elements collapsed tightly into a tremendous density that ignited and spewed its new elements, new inhabitants eternally into an ever-expanding ring of stars and galaxies on a mysterious dark, cold, and formless canvas or, perhaps, mysterious warm, colorful, and formed canvas. An error of randomness ensued, a miscommunication between Creator and Created established, both forever to be befuddled at the movements and motives of the other. The unfortunate beings, the worrisome beings of the conscious mind grew ever-anxious from the uncontrollable assortment of the universe, the unknowable reason of the Creator. A rejection developed for the Creator’s midwife — Chaos.

As the conscious beings slowly mature, they survive through killing, burning, melting, bending, converting, and manipulating or, perhaps, birthing, cooling, freezing, maintaining, and idling the particles and sub-particles leftover by their absent Creator into a ‘better’ or ‘ideal’ assortment, a new reality within the Chaos, of ‘order’… of ‘comfort.’ The rituals… the cults… the philosophies… the religions… the consumerism revolves like the phases of the moon to revel in a single question asked in infinite arrangements of words and sounds. Is the human experience, born through Chaos — sparked by the Creator, predestined to be forever untamable entropy? Or is it predestined by conscious, worrisome hands to mead and bake into a loaf of bread…