So there I was, a quarter past midnight, sitting in the dark on the edge of the couch with a bowl of raisin bran in hand, waiting for it to be time to go to work.
It started small, thoughts about various earthly creation stories, moved out to encompass the solar system and its wonderful clockwork precision and then to contemplating the entire universe and grappling with the probability of an autogenous origin for everything as opposed to the necessity for a prime mover.
I was totally absorbed in this pursuit, chasing ideas and possibilities along countless parallel paths of quantum realities when a tiny bit of bran flake became lodged in my throat. I spent the next few minutes hacking, coughing, eyes watering, suffering a physical condition that I was not able to control.
When the offending bit of material finally dislodged and went on to join its companions in a bath of stomach acid I had the sudden realization that no matter how much we would like answers to all the questions of universal existence, our reality is wholly contained within that next breath.