What we make might last a long time, but eventually it disintegrates – houses, tools, boats, computers. A plant, a tree, a dingo, they plant seeds and as their demise covers them, the lifecycle begins. Humans beget humans. Our other creations do not beget. It’s why interplanetary discoveries make us quake. A tree drops a sapling. A new tree will grow. Our machines do not do this. A painting makes only a suggestion. Regeneration is lost to external orders. We can flag down nature and marvel at rejuvenation. But even mad made things flake into something else at their end.
Light – Amanda Hardisty Keaton
Words- Hank Cherry
