Life Is Like a Plant That Lives on a Rise

Each one of us is living out a script which, in a sense, is already written. And it's incoded in the genum of our es. Life has always seemed to me like a plant that lives on its rise. Its true life is invisible, hidden in the rising. When we think of the unending growth and decay of life and civilization, we cannot escape the impression of absolute nullity. Yet i have never lost a sense of something that lives and endures underneath the eternal flux. What we see is the blossom which passes, the risom remains. The only events in my life worth telling are those when the imperishable world erupted into this transitory ore.