Carbon

Some things are just never meant to be known. They create confusion, disturb the fragile balance and distort reality. They can't be explained; that will lead to mental wormholes. It reaches out, beyond induction.
There is no reason for some occurrences; things are just bound to happen, uncontrolled and there is a certain pleasure in expression, vague, discrete, and watching people react, reform, watching the effort to understand it, the subliminal twitch.
It's not sheer experiment but an elevated experience, amplified truth. The magnitude of reality may be a speckle on this scale, but the exaggeration poses a sweet tenderness that forms a unique bond.
It also alienates people when lingering in the extremes. There exists a covert bound that inhibits the chaotic destruction in silence. Like drugs; while it infuses a warmth of joy at a desirable value, the overdose can be lethal.
The seeds of manufacture are most probably generated from simple attraction. What else? The comfort of the past? The longevity of acquaintance? Maybe.
It maybe all of the above, and therefore is reasonless in this cacophonic unison, and the neither the origins nor the callous nature of progress can't be chained to a single event/reason/source.
It neither is a single outcome. A multitude of outcomes are created by the encryption and endless delay of proclamation. It is necessary to preserve the true form of what everything needs to be: the step beyond is a step into extremity.

In the most primitive reproduction of words: love ruptures simplicity...