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“What is meaning?”
For ages, philosophers have wrestled with this question in the shadowed arenas of thought.
In my eyes, meaning is not eternal. It is not a fixed star burning forever in the heavens, nor is it a phantom that never was. It is a flame—bright, vital, and transient.
Many resist this truth, yet I find it the most honest and alive.
If you insist that meaning is eternal and pre-existent, you rob yourself of the power to create it. What already lives needs no birth; thus all motion becomes hollow, a dance without music, a step without desire.
If, on the other hand, you declare meaning an illusion with no reality at all, then ethics dissolve and knowledge withers. Without their guiding threads, human conduct drifts untethered—a ship without compass or shore.
But when we embrace meaning as temporary—born in the moment, radiant while it lasts—balance returns.
You can move, create, and love, because you see meaning shimmering before you. Yet you do not lean upon its immortality. You cherish it precisely because it is fleeting, like dawn light on water or the brief, fierce heartbeat of a poem.
In that delicate tension, life finds its truest freedom.
tell me your opinions about my essay :)
2026-05-18 16:47:24