Never tees the moon that way!… Never say to the moon-, that your nothing more, nor are you of any greater value, depth, or importance, than that silly relic, classic beauty!

Never say to the moon-. That your nothing more than the sad remnants of a hand-me-down metaphor of the pandering blushing poets…. So gone are those dark days of the artist marveling over your sensual metaphysical mysticism’s, or of philosophers muddling themselves in the garrulous quagmire of your dead poetics;
But even further gone still are the days that you could even boast of the slightest scientific significance!

Never say to the moon-, that the poets…, as well as every other novice romantic, has foolishly; If not childishly, been bewitched by you!
And how they just simply cannot see in the same clear way that the rest of us are able to so clearly see, that it’s now all about the reductional diversity of the [nonhuman] quantum universe mathematics that cares nothing for our names, music nor poetry!…

And please! never make mention, nor brag to the moon, of how we dreamers of the final “scientific (solution) calculation”…. We zealots of HAWKINGs…. We noble assassins of philosophy and poetry!…How we can so easily (after first of course isolating our desired equation in a controlled  environment…. The first problem os science) reduce the human essence to nothing more than an mathematically plausible illusion.
And how we are now, only the consumers of the comforts…, of the grand spectacle, of the great (post) scientific revolution, lazily casting out to drift…, with the laziest push from the laziest hands, our romance-less daydreams into the placid August shade of quantum mathematical algorithms….
So too hell with all your metaphysical complexities!

So please don not throw into the face of the moon that these are now the new…; If not only, meat-and-potatoes of true intellectual integrity.
But instead, when you take the occasion to gaze up upon the moon (which i strongly suggest that you find more time to do so) just consider these lines by Albert Camus….(for i can’t write it better…, or so eloquently)
” And here are trees and i know their gnarled surface, water and i feel its taste. these  scents of grass and stars at night, certain evenings when the heart relaxes-  how shall i negate this world whose power and strength i feel? yet all the knowledge on earth will give me nothing to assure me that this world is mine. You describe it to me and you teach me to classify it. You enumerate its laws and in my thirst for knowledge i admit that they are true. You take apart its mechanism and my hope increases. At the final stage you teach me that this wondrous and multicolored universe can be reduced to the atom and that the atom itself can be reduced to the electron. All this is good and i wait for you to continue. But you tell me of an invisible planetary system in which electrons gravitate around a nucleus. You explain this world to me with an image. I realize then that you have been reduced to poetry: I shall never know. Have i the time to become indignant? You have already changed theories. So that science that was to teach me everything ends up in a hypothesis, that lucidity founders in metaphor, that uncertainty is resolved in a work of art. What need had i of so many efforts? The soft lines of these hills and the hand of evening on this troubled heart teach me much more. I have returned to my beginning. I realize that if through science i can seize phenomena and enumerate them, i cannot, for all that, apprehend the world. Were i to trace its entire relief with my finger, i should not know any more. And you give me the choice between a description that is sure but teaches me nothing and hypotheses that claim to teach me but that are not sure. A stranger to myself and the world, armed solely with a thought that negates itself as soon as it asserts, what is this condition in which i can have peace only by refusing to know and to live, in which the appetite for conquest bumps into walls that defy its assault’s? To will is to stir up paradoxes. Everything is ordered in such a way as to bring that poisoned peace produced by thoughtlessness, lack of heart, or fatal renunciations*.” … Just remember these words before next time highbrowing the moon….

And don’t forget.
that your ridged mathematic and sciences can only build functional frameworks of cold economically reduced things. And that it’s only through the arts and philosophy that we find, and create, civilization, ethics, laws, and human value!

* from the myth of sisyphus by Albert Camus

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