Change

Nothing will ever be the same ever again.

Our brain was once simple matter, now capable of abstracting a mind from that inert mass. An idea of life conceived and justified only by itself. And true it is, to itself. Until it turns back to inert soil from which it once sprouted.

Death and life are no grander than each other, merely abstractions on the same continuum of change that defines all. The only constant is change. Even if death is no longer feared as it once was, or if life feels less lived and more beared, it remains changed. Never to be the same again.

Emotions even - save from their most raw form - are mostly emulated; rehearsed; accessed by route of simile, not by novelty. This felt like that.

To be at peace with change is to accept that things will never be the same. That will never be this. Then will never be now. Death and life are no refugees from change either, they too are not the same as they once were. And will never be again.