It’s weird how life weaves its way through the nooks and crannies of space, almost as if it is lost, trying to find a way through the mire of time. It can almost seem brutal and callous as it sends its feelers out, crawling and grasping, grasping at anything that may endear it to something meaningful and true. Perhaps such qualities place too personal an attribute to the indifference that shrouds the mystery of its meandering; through the labyrinth, it, itself has created, whilst moulding the fabric of its destiny in endless looping, twisting and folding back in on itself, searching for all possible routes to some unfathomable outcome. One could almost desire for it to finally find its way and be done with the absurd toing and froing. Perhaps a slap upside the head would force it to see its folly and direct it in the right direction but this is in itself a folly, the folly of the observer. The double edged sword of observer and observed, one in the same, stealing glimpses of each other in an absurdly vain game of cat and mouse and hide and go seek.

One could find it a sobering prospect, that in its search for a perfect mirror or lens to gaze and glance at itself through, 99.9 percent of all the feelers and eyes it has per chanced and modeled to see through, in the 14 billion years since it decided to embark upon this journey, has been erased and scrapped. How long will it be before the abyss begins to gaze back and it recoils from the horror it sees, when the illusory mirror it holds to its admiring face, cracks and the fragments reveal the cold visage of vanity and that the journey back home is all but lost in the criss crossing, backwards-forwards labyrinth of its wake? Will it then frantically pick at the shards and fragments of realities mirror and fashion a new vessel for observation from the remnants?

Perhaps the horror is fleeting, a mere blemish, a brief nightmare while it lays in an otherwise peaceful slumber and as the morning star falls into a new day, the sunshine will gleam once gain to reveal the birth of another embroidery in an incomplete patchwork. A patchwork that once finished will embrace the entirety of the journey and soften the blips and blemishes into insignificance.