Order

As soon as we give it a name, it looses its innocence.
As soon as we apply a metaphor it looses its universality.
As soon as we squeeze reality into the tight concept of an order it becomes an abstraction, a model a caricature.

Still some of us believe in an order out there for sheer comfort.
There is order if you keep on looking for it, but even the nice low entropic crystals have tiny faults in their structure.
Order is death. Order is the end of time.

However, we are the representatives of order and complexity.
Therefore we not only incorporate it, but we
also make it wherever we can.

In the end it is an illusion, a ghost in the all-encompassing flow of eternity.

Sometimes it is all we can cling to.
Sometimes it strangles us.

And chaos?
I do not know much about it.
Therefore I keep quiet and tidy up my desk.

That is all I can do.