The meaning of existence is not congealed. It won't be found by breaking it down into parts. It won't be discovered by waiting for an epiphany. The meaning of existence is unfathomably elusive. Particles of meaning decay before we can fix them, before we can see through their chaotic dance. Particles of meaning elude our grasping minds, our minding grasps and our soulless eyes. In decay, they lose something we lose track of, and become something we fail to see. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day, meaning disintegrates, until one breath only is enough to blow it away.