What others see in the world is often very different than what I observe. It is the filter of many perspectives that acts like lenses and polarized adjustments in many dimensions and sciences. The nature of the beast is always the same and has the same head, and the outcome is always the same. It grows and then when it is so large that it cannot feed itself on its victims it thrashes about blaming the world for its fate destroying everything it can and finally collapses and is food for yet another beast, likely even more hideous in its final countenance. It is a homeobox sequence whose template is the surface of Y Ddaear and it lives well in the dark, but like nitrogen fixation, it does not function well in the light. It is the poison hand that has becomes the ball and chain that anchors life to its twll disgyrchiant. La Bête des bas-fonds, how expected that the real beast would ride the kindness. Blaidd Cambrian.
I wonder what sense it makes to allow the dead hand on all wheels while others create shelters for life that many dead hands wish to incinerate, just for spite, like a spoiled children that would destroy the game board if they did not win. This is why the peiriannydd tymhorol exist.