We live in a world. Period.
Existence. Is it possible to describe? Is it possible to exist? What are you doing right now? Reading/thinking/breathing/living/dying. How many conscious seconds are you alive? How may raw, deeply engaged moments are you away from death? How many lifetimes in between?
Swept down the river of life, you hurtle uncontrollably toward fate. Will you reach for the nearest branch or boulder? Make a futile attempt to swim upstream? Or will you surrender all control and wish for the cataclysmic waterfall that lies at the horizon?
Into an acutely vast expanse we are inserted. Everything that ever was stares at us blankly in a knowing silence, waits for us to move, to recognize the infinity around us. Specifically, and yet purely by chance, you are here. Colliding with frighteningly beautiful circumstance.
Yet, what beyond? Is this all we know? This raw, mortal existence.