Yesterday, an old thought returned; a thought birthed from the far-sighted thoughts of Hermann Hesse.
Oh, yes, we do long for permanence. Who doesn’t wish to be remembered 2000 years from now, in 4016?
Looks weird, doesn’t it? Add 10,000: 12,016 — more like a number used to count inventory, not years; not human years anyway, nor an ape’s.
So, I ask myself: What is the goal of humanity, if we cannot make a permanent dent on the reality of a physical universe? Or, perhaps, does our existence reflect the fact that we are currently the living result of a permanent dent; an impregnated bulge, which pulses time away into the God-thought of Infinity?
Asks Uncle Tree…