New Beginnings

I'm not really writing with a purpose other than to write.

There is something beautiful about life.
Sometimes,
the cynic in me thinks that this is the greatest lie constructed by millions of years of evolution in order to deal with the fundamental truth that life is, in fact, anything but
Beautiful. Yet there it is.
A whisper on the wind, a wink of light from a distant star, a smiling moon cut into a crescent. Sometimes, it is as though Nietzsche's words can be reversed, or at the very least, another abstract notion can be supplanted so that instead of "the abyss" staring right back at us,
it is Beauty which also stares.

And sometimes, in all honesty, the only staring I do is into the mirror.
I wonder why.
A lot.
I wonder if there's a right answer.
I wonder if I should be searching for that answer.
I wonder if I've already found that answer but discarded it like jetsam to save some notion of an afloat life. We are at once alone and not.

There are some individuals who have postulated that the world is the way that it is; the world follows the rules that we know it to follow for the sole purpose of humanity's existence. The grand design of humanity's existence is so that the universe may observe itself. We are, after all, composed of as many atoms as there are stars in a galaxy, and we have this strange capacity to change - both ourselves and the world around us. This answer seems so absurd that it is very difficult to believe. Almost as difficult as belief in God. Almost as difficult as belief that we are alone, godless. Almost as difficult as the belief that I have thus far lived life right (whatever that term means). I don't know. I won't stop asking.
I won't stop wondering.
I won't stop.
I will live.
Because that's all I can do.
And
I suppose
that's beauty enough.