Violins of God

There is order in all things, all designs of the creator. The concept of chaos is a manifest of human limitation, a direct creation of the dominion of man. The realm of man, as a testament to its own sense of inferiority towards the universe, has concocted the idea of randomness, of disorder. The man looks at falling rain, a tempest of slight barrages against a windowpane, a leaf, and rippling water, but only sees disorder. Man hears the discord of the sound of rain against his own ears, and in doing so creates the realm of chaos. Man has been given the cruelest limitation that the universe can offer. He has been given the ability to hear the sound of disorder, but has been limited in the sense that he is unable to see rhythm in it. Man looks at the night sky and wonders, coming to terms with the fact that he may never understand the true clockwork of the cosmos before him. Little does he know that in every minuscule essence of being in the universe he perceives, there is the most utmost sense of order. The order of the universe leaves no room for randomness. No system in our world is left to chance, to randomness, to fate. Every rippling wave of water on a smooth surface colliding with the remnants of another raindrop is a perfect formula, a perfect scenario waiting to happen. As the storm subsides, man falls back into his pattern of comfort, letting his mind create the perfect system of the world around him, never coming to terms with the fact that perfect order was never lost, not even in the walls of a hurricane, let alone the rippling of water.





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