Matter Farmers (part 3 of 3)

We do not have emotions, or any other experiences, accidentally. We’re the same stuff as stars, as oceans, as mountains, yeah we’re goofy and transient, but hell, we’re still here, and as far as I’m concerned, we’re pretty special. We’re storytellers. Our brains are like beehives for information we gather over our years. Electrons are using us to reach out to someone, to something. I don’t claim to have all the answers, but basically something cracked open and atoms started spilling out and over so much time they kept making choices until they became us. We study our anatomy, but we didn’t train it, or teach it. Electrons did that. Traded land and picked complementary crops and bartered harvests and shared labor. Farming. Growing it out to all the sweet stuff and pouty flowers and broad green spades in order to eventually cut it all down and save the only part the Great Farmer cares about. The soul.

The bitter part no one wants to eat. 

Eternal life looks more like an envelope of seeds.

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