Universe of whims (I want my cells to be happy)

So why does it rain this morning on only 3/4 of the roof of this house? Not for just a while, but so constant. The mornings are darker now at the end of August, but most people sleep and wake to the light never noticing this progression into the cold and dark season. I look out and find a bit of light high beyond the clouds, yet on the street it is bleak, quiet and dark. The rain has finally moved over to the dry quarter of the roof after a long 20 minutes of silence. When I look down into the microscopic world, just what is beyond the strings that make up the minute? What are the strings made of? And what does that beyond the beyond consist of out in the darkness with a bright light upon it?

Why do decisions I make within my makeup effect something light years away? Tethered by invisible strings not unlike the ones in the microbial theory. The rain continues now on to the darker street. This dark which becomes rich activity in the light.

Are we some kind of experiment? I want all my cells to be happy.

This universe of whims.

Who gets so lucky to be alive? Who can answer these universal questions in the dark? With rain on one part of the roof. It's like being in two places at once: one wet, one dry. When I look upon all this, my observations change the observed. Cracks within the

Illiterate. Illuminati. Opposites, that's all.