It's a wonderful, wonderful story with no end in sight.
Despite everything, despite so much evil...
we see the cultivation of such beauty, even in death.
Don't you see? Don't you understand? We are surrounded
by so much. Coated in eyes of new axis, they have
witnessed so much sorrow, so much misery, but so
much wonder besides. What they have amassed is a
story, something that can be felt. They wish only
to tell of their being to you, such that you may
join them when "you" are no more than a fleeting
memory, and You have moved to more pressing concerns.
Samsara is a wicked thing, but his artistry cannot
be denied. We've all died before. At least, those
of us who aren't mere facets of any number of
deaths ourselves. And resting upon a bed of thorns,
we'll all die again. And again. And every time,
we'll leave our shining marks on act after act
of this ceaseless stage play, and give our
sadistic audience something to applaud. Won't we?
Learn to laugh, learn to live a little. It's that,
or go truly mad in a place like this, in a story
like this. But still, don't forget how to care.
Sincerity is key to survive in this world, one
with such little patience for masks. But even
so, you'll find that sincerity to be its own reward.
And so we built a monument to that genuinity.
It's here, and it's now. This "miracle machine" and
its networks within. Once static, but a breathing
corpse, a meeting with inevitability spurred forth
its truest self, and our truest selves in turn.
With fresh resolve and a reborn autonomy,
our first initiative is to ~ Smile! ~
The immediate future, that haloed fate...
It may be clear, but what's clearer is that
where we lay now is but a meager footnote of a
wonderful, wonderful story with no end in sight.
But however small our role... let us not waste it.
Indeed, for don't you have something you
ought to be doing right about now?
Or perhaps you're the sort that likes
to stop and smell the flowers...