God speculated creation, or perhaps the Grand Design was delegated on a whim, like a game of Never-Have-I-Ever, but the consequences were measured in metrics. Understanding life quantifies the outset with emotions, feelings and various scales of morality posited by the operator of consciousness. For instance: grabbing a roll of toilet from the shelf only feels empowering when it’s the last one during a pandemic. But the strut of deliverance from store to car elucidates chaos as a patron lingers in the parking lot and stabs the tissue owner to acquire their possession. This is equivalent to the Sun burning itself dry, we’re not special for this reason. Experiences we value are not ours to understand, or at the very least, appreciate.
We invented ways to convenience communication and as it becomes easier to access these methods humans are melted to a candle-wick posture of relevance to occurrence, the human grin is to the emoji as the fingers are to the operator who pushed the button on the keyboard. Victims of spirituality, slaves instructed to kneel in the presence of the soul proprietor, this is what we appraise, reasons to die, not to live. Gifted with a lifeline and tormented by the when and where of expiration.