This right and true man

This right and true man
This egregious damage
to one so fine, so good
Matters not, matters not.

It is hard to accommodate the paradox that we can find the world so beautiful, and so much in the world so beautiful, and other people so beautiful, when, in fact, the reality is that the world is inhospitable, terrible and terrifying, utterly contemptuous of humanity and human nature.

It rejects humans.  It rejects finer thought and finer things.  It's viciousness knows no bounds and it is unequivocal in its uncaring impartiality.  It matters not who lives or who dies, who prospers or who declines.  It cares not that one minute it makes one person tall and strikes another down, to then, the very next minute, strike down the tall one and bring forth to glory the downtrodden one - or, if it will, leave the downtrodden to be even further defeated.  Dust to dust whilst still alive.

This is not god.  This is not a vengeful and spiteful god.  There is no justice, there is no right, no fairness, no caring.  There is unknowing and unknowable chance, colliding happenstances that infiltrate and rearrange existence, now in another manner, now in another form.  It matters not, matter is pliable, and it plies its horror on us and through us.  We keep the universe alive by letting it manipulate us, in its dance of destruction and regeneration.  The choice we make is to breathe.  The control we have is to breathe.  Yet, that is no choice, no control, at all.  We exist to breathe, to now become another, to not be the same thing we were prior to our breath.

That is us.  We are now done.