EON recommends a fleeting moment of peace, words that ring true long after the framework from which they sprung forth are but a memory, reminding everyone that generation entails both winter and spring, summer and fall, a bittersweet process embedded deep inside the workings of life as it fails time and time again to acknowledge the majesty of its surroundings, falling prey to its partiality, making way for apter forms of organization, doing justice to what is out there only until the next generation, and the next, and the next … from magnetic pulse to dust and orbit, to protein and sludge and brains and scales, to gills and lungs and factory bellows, and from there to automobiles and locomotives and space stations and distant spiral galaxies, and from there to magnetic pulse and dust and orbit, the cosmos continues ever on, an eternal mechanism of procreation immortalizing itself through the cycles and transitions of its multifaceted nature, all of it transcendent, heavenly, everything floats inside the heavens, the dark, glutinous, mysterious heavens from which matter and energy spring forth to create both what is observed and what has yet to be observed, and which, one day, with the right apparatus, may yet come to the fore. Just maybe.
The process continues. Heaven is under your feet as well as over your heads.
Think about that for a moment. The words are few but the meaning plenty and wide.
Like I said, a fleeting moment of peace.
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From the collection of writings EON: THE ANGRY COMING OF AGE
(Quote from Walden)