I am after God—or rather—I am after the sublime thrill of the knowledge that inanimate forces which could extinguish me are omnipresent and vast. Those powers that carry the potential to smash my every atom lap around my ankles, an undertow of an angry ocean.
Space is this sea in its own black night, twinkling with starlit wavelets illuminated by an other-dimensional moon.
And yet I stand calmly, ankle-deep in my own
death?
destruction?
annihilation?
Ankle-deep in a force that could scatter my every iota like powder in a gale.
