The nocturnal clock turns unfortunately without a sign of stopping. The impending doom which looms indefinitely seems to never be. We’ve died a thousand times over and have yet to learn that we’ve been giving another chance. A chance to burn in this external struggle of our turning world. A hell of humanity which progresses but gets successively worse with each generation passed. There’s got to be a path, an easy out which helps get through this drought. There is, I’ve found, its ignorance. This cliché answer to everything shines once more. If indeed life is objective and one man’s pulchritudinous could be another’s disastrous, and then what use is it to analyze, pick apart, and restart our voyage through these uncharted seas? No human will ever know, maybe the answer to the great philosophical questions of perplexity are that there are no answers.