Let be be finale of seem. Let the light affix its beam. Without a warning, let the end begin. But let there also be this consolation: that nothing is lost, that nothing is ever lost, that even the dead will rise up some day and with them the whole universe, that every speck and atom will be restored, that the world will be renewed and that the sun will rise again, as it has always done, and the earth will bring forth new forms, new beings, and the past will have no more power to harm or hurt. Here is a consolation to surpass understanding. And even while we are waiting, we are not lost. We are part of a continuum, even if we do not know what it is. The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely. That is why so many people would rather die than do it. The snow does not return yesterday's footprints. The rain does not rub out today's faults. The wind does not blow away tomorrow's chances. Things and time both flow, and we with them. We ourselves are the river. The river carries our boat. How then can it be that the river is not our boat? If we do not run, what will we do? If we do not drive, what will we do? If we do not look, what will we do? If we do not speak, what will we do? If we do not answer, what will we do? The Way gathers and scatters, arouses and soothes. And while we are waiting, we are not lost. We are part of a continuum, even if we do not know what it is. How then can it be that the river is not our boat? GPT-3 with Jessica Brotman