[ IP ] I was but a speck in enormity of nature .

The expanse, it seemed to me, never really grew any smaller. Here I trudged, a sea of snow rolling before me and an ocean of ice behind, with only mountains marking an end to the white. I was not lost. How can one be lost when the journey ’ s beginning and end are both plainly, constantly, in view? The expanse filled that space, that infinite stretch, between. And I filled the expanse, in the same way a singular ant might fill a porcelain basin. Yes, the volume isn ’ t filled, but the only thing of note, the only thing that matters, the only reason to care about that emptiness, is that speck of life. 
 
 Humans care. It is, perhaps, the defining quality that separates us from Nature. Nature just is. Outside the microcosm of our minds and the macrocosm of our society, there is only Nature. Scientists tell us that most of existence takes place in the space between things. That the infinite is more empty than not. Nature is an expanse. It is a continuity of nothing broken only by peaks between wide valleys. Pin drops in orchestral halls. 
 
 And yet, I marched on; my legs the steady pistons of machinery. I could see my destination in the peaks ahead grow no closer despite my, as yet, unwavering stride. I was an engine of purpose. I cared whether I lived or died. Nature did not. Even hours, days, later, as the cold pushed in the boundaries of my existence, seeping into my core, I cared. 
 
 I had reached my end, but not my destination. As the expanse emptied of life, my life emptied into the expanse. The ant washed down a drain. Infinity opened to me and I cared not. 

