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  • Lost worlds…

    Long before rising seas swallowed Doggerland beneath the North Sea, this lost landscape may have been a surprisingly lush and life-friendly haven. New DNA evidence reveals that forests of oak, elm, and hazel were already thriving there more than 16,000 years ago—thousands of years earlier than scientists thought possible. Even more astonishing, researchers detected traces of a tree species believed to have vanished from the region hundreds of thousands of years ago. (source)

    Silent forest.

    A lost world.

    Trees that once were now gone.

    A thriving forest now underwater.

    Dry land. Water rising. Soil wet.

    Now silent seas.

    Speaking the same to whoever is there to listen.

    (Our message is not meant to be heard…)

    That is why we always change and yet we speak the same.

    Don’t be attached to anything.

    Like the forest or now the sea.

    Will change again.

    What once was will be no more.

    What was not will rise again.

    Even the world itself will die, like it was once born.

    And again, some humans will try to understand.

    Without being aware that in a world where nothing truly is,

    it is them who are the greatest question mark…

    April 18, 2026
    being, Cosmos, Existence, poem, Poetic Philosophy

  • All that is needed…

    All that is needed is a clip and a photo to create a video.

    All that is needed for a book to be written is an idea.

    All that is needed for a person to be born is a small cell.

    All that is needed for the cosmos to unfold is void and the idea of energy being positive and negative as well.

    In a world of possibilities, there is nothing that cannot exist.

    Except the simplest things that we still seek.

    Me. You. He.

    In a world full of everything I still cannot know how I came to be.

    And I always seek that answer.

    Refusing to accept what the universe tries to say to me.

    (What can die, could never live…)

    April 7, 2026
    being, death, life, poem, Poetry

  • Cosmos full of words

    Humans. Born to communicate.

    From infancy to death. Being here to speak.

    But to whom?

    Who can listen to words coming from the mist of irrational deeds?

    We all speak. We all listen.

    And yet we keep on. Still trying to find out.

    In a cosmos born in silence, who is supposed to listen?

    In a cosmos full of words. Who is supposed to speak?

    April 5, 2026
    Poetry, Cosmos, poem, Poetic Philosophy, Silence, words

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~ Part of Harmonia Philosophica network ~

 

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