Koyaanisqatsi ★★★★★

To the dead: I speak in your place.

To the living: fear not, for this is but one side of the coin.

The sun has blackened and, at once, the shudder of a decaying Earth fell eerily still; I am soon to be no more than a limp carcass, swept up by the eroding forces of a furious atmosphere. What a beautiful confusion I endured from this realization: humankind has yet again proven—through ambition among other things—to accomplish the elusive. I must ponder, however, if the collective annihilation of man (and only man, for nature advances regardless) was deliberate in scope; could we expect less, given our contentious eccentricities? Was finality not embedded into our hearts since the original sin? Are we not parasites who plagued and raped our singular shelter for means of technological industrialization?

The devastation of our being was never a question of ability rather than it was of awareness, and thus God shall not be blamed. Should we have aspired to coexist among nature in lieu of conquest, perhaps our extinction would have fared less cruel—how fascinating and terrifying sentience can be! To live a life leading the greatest epic beheld (man v. Earth), recurrently embellishing oneself for little return; suffering, possibly. The dystopia we had been bred to fear was never of real concern, for such a reality arrived—long before anticipated—behind our senseless preoccupation. "Innovation," they called it. In due time, all will have withered, all will have burned, and all will have fallen: evolution attested to the greatest act of treachery.

It's comical, really.

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