Quod Erat Demonstrandum (Q.E.D.)

Take as premise: the world is absolutely unflawed.

And casting aside all vain speculations as to the meaning of this meaningless world, we will fulfill our function.

All is for the best. If we question it, we lose precious time. We will be crushed by the governments, the statutes of the prior generations, those who ceaselessly uphold these structures because neither do they know any different.

Each person walks as they have been born to, with their birth ongoing, with their growth a seed forever planted. Whether the end is in sight, just a step away, or impossibly far, the depth and breadth of an eternity, we all must walk.

Perhaps some fly. Perhaps some swim. Nominally trivial, are these notions of above and below. We all must walk.

We all desire, from our deepest levels, to walk.

Too, only from other people, those who walk alongside us, do we accept the proposition that we err, that they have erred, because it is in our way, because we have stumbled.

Only those who have stumbled upon our same cragged path.

We all must walk.

The world is good because we are living in it. We are granted life; it is not unto us to question how much or how long.

Let dreamers dream what worlds they please; those edens can't be found. The sweetest flowers, the fairest trees are grown in solid ground.

Life is a miracle. From our first step on that path, we accept it. To reject that fact is to step off that path. But there are no fences, no gates to keep us, either on or off.

Please, come walk.

As long as there are people, there will always be strife. This strife walks hand in hand with hope, as its perfect negative image. For every tragedy, there is a new tomorrow as much as there is mourning, as there is anger, as there is irreparable pain.

We are the source of these things as much as we are their targets, their victims. Both hope and strife issue from our hands and our hearts.

And they would not do so if there were no people. Nothing would happen, not at all, if there were no people. Only terraformation that empty space has never and will never learn to observe, subjectively and piteously, as beautiful.

This is horrible. This is terrible. This is wonderful.

This is a miracle.

Take as conclusion: the world is absolutely flawed.

Take as corollary: it is unto us to question it, to correct its flaws, that we may hold subsequent generations up. That we may give, and be given.

We're neither pure nor wise nor good... We'll do the best we know.

That is our function. And time neither stands still nor purposefully, cruelly, rushes on. It is the basic neutrality of our circumstance that necessitates our hands lent to each other.

We are the world. We are its inheritors as much as its inherence.

Take as axiom: we, humans, are flawed. Whether we got that from the world, or the world got it from us...is immaterial.

But we are here. We are real. And we must keep moving forward, as the world does.

Above all, no matter where we come from or what we do: We've got to do the best with what we've got.