When the questions are unanswerble and proven to be beyond the efforts of conjecture, we must rely on the visionary aspirations of intellect, the power to dream, the aimless determinations of the discovery of explanations we can never know.
The behaviour of clouds is the crux of the matter.
They present an endless artistic mix of creations that undergo the simultaneous collapse and disintegration of their distinctive criteria.
The conditions of reduction in the production of their colour-forms present an enigma of transitory impressions that endure without lasting.
We treasure the permanance of our objects of special interst – paintings, sculptures, ancient artefacts, the preservation of scripts, the futile restoration of failing ruins.
Cultural assets are held up as tokens of equal status to the epitome of the natural world.
Human effort, often strenous and painful, stands in opposition to the effortless projections of the weather systems.
We persevere in juxtaposition to the amalgam of the world that sustains us.
We have manufactured a detachment from the sources of our evolution.
It cannot be undone.
This is the paradox that will define our existence for the rest of time.
Running away from the calamity is a distraction from the reality of facing up to the need for change.
The reality of weather is such that a need for change is perfunctory and unavoidable.
The courses of its alterations are defining attributes of its essential function.
The weather presents an example that the mind can adhere to – to initiate positions of constrast and to infer new ways of thinking in the unavoidable consequences of its actions.
Ideas cannot be static assertations of completion.
They must be subject to change in order to accommodate the refinements of new positions.
They must follow the examples of the weather, forever unrestricted in the activation of ideas, often a precursor to the accomplishment of visions.
The weather is an assembly of ideas that become visions for all to see.
The promises of fulfilment are invisible on the fringes of the arbitary cloud cover.
No gods will reverse the final outcomes.
Armageddon will not come with the drama of a Biblical pagent.
It will be a blank tapestry.
The disaster capitalists have led the minions to a vacant pool where they can slake their thirst for what they do not wish to know.
The direction of society is determined by an elite faction of parasites.
Nothing can remove them from the body systems of human life.
The perpetuation of apathy is in the gift of the ruling classes.
They use it well.
People are happier when they’re not caring.
All you have to do is facilitate that weakness, and everything else is yours for the taking.
The keys to the kingdom of our destruction are in the hands of our destroyers.
We have unlocked the dismal enterprises of a blighted season.
But we are unaware of the agonies of a collapsing ecosystem to come.
They will present themselves in patterns of an inevitable destruction we cannot avoid.