...and then we die

I consider the irony in the thirty silver coins in exchange for the life of the Messiah.

Thirty coins to save yourself from an ongoing war that you unintentionally and involuntarily participate in.

Man, who is nothing more than an evolved primate, being forced to act against its instinct to survive, whilst natural selection shows no mercy to good deeds. One must adapt or die.

By the laws of nature, the elements favor those who do not oppose change, for it is inevitable and a constant within our movement through the illusion of time. What more is time, other than a measurement of decay and decline, as we go about believing we're moving forward, but in reality, we're actually counting down towards the end.

Death, where even the mighty has fallen and there they will lay, buried within the soil of the earth, right next to me. Rotting and melting off of the calcium and phosphorus rock that used to be the skeleton responsible for carrying around our consciousness.

I wish to hear what her majesty would say, knowing that she is nothing more than compost used for the continued existence of posterity. That for the duration of the sacred cosmos' existence, she was awake for less than a nanosecond and her reign will be long forgotten before the eye of the universe blinks again.

My insignificance amuses me as I observe humanity craving power, gathering gold and slaughtering animals to make shoes of their skin. Soon the lives we've taken will have their revenge, as we shall in turn, go back to the weeds.