I go to nature to be soothed and healed and to have my senses put in order.
(John Burroughs)
Everything knows it place, its meaning, its purpose.
All lives in balance and perfect harmony.
Until the human species comes into play.
Then it wants to find a meaning to it all.
Losing sense becoming non sense.
As it wants to control it all by reason.
Everything ceases to makes sense, becoming non sense, nonetheless.
Everything ceases to be.
He comes and does.
Imposing its will.
Imposing its reasons.
With non sense.
With no meaning.
With no purpose.
With no regrets.
Out of any sense.
Nothing makes sense.
An urgent need to please.
Urged to impress.
What shall I do?
As if it mattered!
Look around you.
Don't you see?
Whatever you see, has always been.
Whatever you build, has always been.
Whatever you imagine, has always been.
Whatever you destroy, has always been.
Whatever you create, has always been.
Whatever you are, has always been.
We are all one, and we are none at all.
All makes sense when it does not.
I believe so, and so it is/
Yo lo Creo
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