I am real. I exist! I am able to recognize the amazing truth that I am here with the trees, the mountains, the clouds, and the sky. What greatness have I dealt to deserve my small place in the universe? The universe so vast that my entire life, even if I should live to one hundred and three, is but the thought before the blink of the eye of God.
I am a man of two thoughts: one of science, one of faith. My Science Man tells me that billions of years from now, the sun will expand to become a Red Giant; the deep, blue oceans will evaporate away; the moist clouds will expand and escape into space; and the most precious of human words, thoughts, and creations will turn to grey ash and be known no more.
My Faith Man asks, “Should we then stop writing poetry, building temples, and feeling love? All that we do is inconsequential to the motions of the galaxy, but in our space, and in our time, is it so? When we realize the finiteness of our existence, should we lie on the ground and await the day of our fate?”
The part of me between the two knows the answers are all “No,” because he knows–I know that I am real. I know that we are all real. That fact alone is enough to prove to me that we are more than skin and bone. We have things to say, monuments to make, and people to love. Life is more than just seconds on a Doomsday clock–it is a gift to us of time that we must use to cry out with what voices we have into the deep blackness of space, “I am here!”
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