The space is quite. A vast majority so unoccupied. But then it festers forth, this irresistable urge to grow new forms. And for consciousness, this vital substance which sits like a god on the throne.
Times have passed. Such vast cycles, of which we are only a drop in the water. Yet we preside over matter, and for a moment come into our splendid perfection. Always so inclined towards unequal proportions. This vast majority of which I have slain.
From there, we keep expanding, but we must consider us part of an overall progress towards some goal. Humanity is but the latest expansion towards consciousness, and he preserves the reason to aspire towards it.
It is the universe itself becoming aware of it self, and is that not a godlike ability? But we must slay what ties us down. We must let go our need for bondage.
We preserve the spiritual tradition of the virtuous life, and we are rebellions. For in this world is preserved the uniqueness of unequal footings. And we must slay what binds us to these rocks.
For going forward only.