All That Is Seen and Unseen

What goes in here and what do I reserve for myself? I have something about night sounds, like the daddy-longlegs that got itself stuck in the nets yesterday. I was reading trying to work out what the tiny rustle was. I put it down to water in the radiators at first. I’m not particularly bothered about insects and spiders though one in a room at night will make me eject it as the thought of something on my face in the dark is quite upsetting. I do not like wasps and they will make me bat the air to get them away despite me knowing that this winds them up. I haven’t actually been stung for ages and even then it was less of a trauma than I was expecting.

All that happens on the news, off the news, the little deaths unseen by some dusty roadside far away, from where I am to dead in a week; they fill me up, block my head with questions over why things like this happen when I have always known that there is no answer to this. The future lies unmapped, and unseeable, outside any world line accessible from here and yet we think it is all defined, down in some book of the maker who has his clockwork and his tables laid out on the desk, plotting our fates like a man playing dice with himself. We need concrete points in our days just as much as we need them in our lives. Well I do. They are things to reach to tell us that everything is progressing properly and yet in the slight organization that we call civilization, we are thrown about like dust on the wind. I only remember one Doctor Seuss book, the one about the entire civilization on a speck of dust (Horton Hears a Who). Just thinking about this has made me realize that I have often thought that we are just like these little people under threat from a cosmos so much bigger than our own local area.