By: Dr. Adnan Bozan

What if life were nothing but an illusion resulting from the confusion of matter?
What if life, in its essence, is not an independent being, but a fleeting heartbeat in the chest of inanimate matter, a moment of hesitation in the silence of stone, a tremor of confusion between remaining as matter... or being born?

Have you ever thought that life is nothing but a form of resistance?
Resistance of matter to its silence, its system, its eternal stillness?
When the atom grew weary of its silent rotation in its orbit, and when the electron tired of its obedient dance around the cold nucleus, life exploded as the first cry in the kingdom of silence.

Life is not the opposite of matter; it is its anxiety. It is its fear of nothingness. It is its way of speaking, regretting, dreaming.
Every living being is but an incomplete sentence in a material book that refuses to close.

Water, when it flows, does not think. But when it trembles in a stagnant pond, it may invent the frog.
The earth does not dream, but when it is suffused with light, time, and chance, humanity is born.
Isn’t this madness?
Isn’t there a volcano of life hidden deep in matter that has not yet erupted?

Life is not something “arriving” on matter; it is hidden within it, just as poetry is hidden in the stone of a poem before the poet arrives.

Perhaps we live in an inverted illusion: it is not we who live, but matter that makes us live.
We are its fleeting manifestations, its passing whims toward meaning.
Every heartbeat is a swift slip from the laws of physics to the edges of madness, from the order of the atom to the unraveling of sensation.

Therefore, every death is not the end of life, but the return of order to its nature.
As if life were a temporary mistake, corrected by matter when the heart grew tired.

Thus said my teacher.

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