walking back from the lake this morning absorbed in thought, mister lagging behind watching me absorbed in thought, i thought of the earth, how strange to be on a planet like this where so much that happens seems random, so many structures fail, plans fail off into nothingness and wilderness persists as a kind of molecular mental chaos or sweet anarchy that insists in surviving the war of the politics of war. in the sixth extinction. is it the last one? are we determined to be the last ones? there are planets who are dead so to speak out there still orbiting. there are suns gone supernova or something, reversed into dark matter, worlds turned inside out, by chance, by design, and we, which are we, how much chance have we in the cosmic design? 
and that's as far as i got when we found ourselves back at home.