Nihilism: Strange Matter

I see a ghost, a ghost of nihilism, hovering over civilization. It is formless and qualityless, just hanging above everything built by humans with an absolute indifference, watching silently. Human beings have always lived in the web of meaning that they have woven. We use morality to define behavior, history to confirm existence, and ideals to guide the direction. We fight for dignity, fight for survival, and embed short lives into grand narratives, as if this can withstand the erosion of time and make meaning conclusive and thick. We praise sacrifice, praise the sublime, spurn the despicable, and condemn greed. Within the framework of good and evil, right and wrong, stories are repeated generation after generation. All sublimity has a biological background. All inferiority has an instinctive origin. The seemingly advanced civilized behavior of peeling off the shell is just an extension of biological inertia. And this ghost looks beyond civilization. It sees that the universe is silent, the galaxies are dead, and time has no beginning or end. The rise and fall of human beings, as well as the joys and sorrows of love and hate, are nothing more than the trembling of a speck of dust on the scale of the universe. Everything comes from nothing and goes to nothing. Some are just: born by chance and destined to perish. It has no compassion, because pain is nothing special. Don't be angry because there is no original sin in all things. No judgment, because there is no yardstick for right and wrong. I was silent with this ghost, quietly watching the impromptu performance of the universe in the meaningless wasteland.