I was out walking the other day when I noticed this thick plume of steam rising into the sky from a nearby rooftop. I stopped and just stared at it for a while. The endless cloud of white vapor quickly became mesmerizing to me as it continued to roll out curling in waves before it stretched itself thin like cotton candy and again became invisible. My mind began to drift, Its fugitive form and elemental composite made me dream of the intangibility of space, and the incomprehensible misconception of time. For here was the stream of mist and air disappearing into the atmosphere, and I couldn't even begin to comprehend it. Just where will it go, what will it become? Was it once part of me, will it be again? This cycle has surely continued on for a millennia and it certainly won't end when I do. Will it ever truly end? How long has each drop of vapor been around cycling through this system as plant, as people, as ice, again and again and again? That's when I realized, there was something spiritual to what I was witnessing, something beyond me at least... I mean, just how insignificant are we anyway? Surely our own end cannot be so finite.

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