A sad grey twilight watches me from outside the window. Faint traces of the sun’s orange being given up to the quiet waiting blue some way up from the horizon.
How long has it been since I opened these little attics of my mind? How long since I last deemed they were of value? How long since I let the universe touch me, filling a moment? How long since I let it hold me and stare into my eyes, unhurried with questions?
Aren’t there really two ways of seeing everything? One says that the only things that matter are those detached of irrational feeling, while the other says that only how you feel about the universe is real. In the end, we are left to choose. How long has it been since I last chose the second?
Darkness now trickles closer to the horizon, chasing the last orange around the planet, leaving the city draped in beads of harsh sodium.
Isn’t it sad how it gets harder every day to see the face of the universe and contemplate its incredible existence, even for a fleeting moment? Isn’t it ironic that what is most difficult to see is the greatest encompassing truth? Is it not childish to clutter one’s fleeting time with small playthings, that have only to do with marginally extending that time? Isn’t it sad how many hurdles must be overcome, in violation of the code of compliance, to sit down with the universe for a moment of uninterrupted privacy?
Isn’t it sad how, despite knowing all this, one must chase this conditioned lunacy day after day until time runs out?
How will I be any different? It is an increasingly escaping possibility that I shall.
For now, just a moment will have to do.
Until the next time, universe. Hope to see you again. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
One Life 
I wish I could write like that!
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I love your writing if that means anything.
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Evolutionarily speaking, we humans were never meant to be able to contemplate the existence of the universe. In fact we are more evolved precisely for the mundane tasks of everyday existences, staying away for that sabertooth tiger in the tall grass, looking out for edible berries, fruits and mushroom in bushes, making sure we have better fur than the family in the next cave (for better survivability in the winter of course). Your mere contemplations about your lack of contemplations about the universe is in itself an attempt to elevate above our evolutionary restrictions.
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Oh yes, no question about that. As a species though, we are now long past the modest ambitions that evolution had intended for us. And yet, the higher-level cognitive pursuits that we now engage in, and deem to be above the original goals of evolution, are the product of a sophisticated nervous system, which is a product of that evolution itself.
See, evolution itself is blind: it does not mean us to do anything in the first place. It has no plan. We may have evolved a sophisticated nervous system owing to a different evolutionary pressure, but the auxiliary advantages it provides us sets off evolutionary selection of a new kind. For example, we did not evolve our vocal mechanisms for language, and yet, once we master this highly advantageous side-skill, it sets off natural selection of a new kind based on our mastery of language improving our odds of survival.
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