We live in a material world. Yet to what extent can matter be divided? To the atom, the electron, the proton, the neutron, the quark? Today, scientists regard the quark as the smallest indivisible particle. Three quarks, held together by gluons, form a proton. But time will pass, and perhaps it will turn out that even the quark can be divided. A new particle may appear — one I would call, for simplicity, a “part-quark” — which, in turn, might also prove divisible, say into a “part-part-quark,” and so on, into infinity. We simply cannot grasp infinity.
If we look upward at the sky and ask ourselves: how far can the Universe expand — to galaxies, black holes, even larger structures? — the answer, too, is infinity. Thus, the microcosm and the macrocosm — the infinitely small and the infinitely vast — are equally boundless. And we, our Earth, our human world, exist somewhere in between.
Perhaps these two infinite realms — the micro and the macro — intersect or even merge. After all, in the macrocosm, on the Sun and the stars, nuclear fusion takes place — a phenomenon born of the microcosm.
We cannot observe most of these worlds. Our vision is limited. We extend it with microscopes and telescopes, but only to a point. There are invisible layers of reality, blending into one another, unseen yet known to exist. We do not see the far side of the Moon, but we have no doubt that it’s there.
Here I come to the central idea of my hypothesis — the cyclic nature of infinity, the merging of immeasurable worlds, and the similarity of the laws that govern them. Space and time there are utterly different from those in our human-scale world.
In the world we inhabit, however, space and time are measurable. We experience and observe them, and more than that — we can influence them. Events and the flow of life also move in cycles. Stagnation gives way to revolution. Conservatism yields to democracy — and then the cycle turns again. This whirl moves in a spiral, driven by higher social and technological progress. Human ambitions shift as well. We now live in an age obsessed with wealth and money, where power and coercion, not truth and justice, often define human relations.
This is especially clear in the world’s attitude toward Russia’s war against Ukraine. Most European nations, along with Canada and Australia, call things by their names: Russia’s aggression is aggression, and Ukraine is both victim and defender of its sovereignty. The Baltic states and Poland, sharing borders with the aggressor or its satellite Belarus, understand this most acutely — they know their “habits.”
There are other states — North Korea, Iran, China — that openly or covertly support Russia. A kind of “axis of evil,” or perhaps a “triangle or quadrangle of evil,” with Russia at the center. They are ruled by dictators who understand Putin all too well.
Then there are countries afraid to face the truth: Hungary, Slovakia, parts of Asia, Africa, and South America. They avoid the word “aggression,” calling the war a “conflict,” refusing to name the culprit. I would call this a political “swamp.”
Worst of all, in the past year even some of our allies — the United States in particular — have drifted into this swamp. This happened with the arrival of President Donald Trump’s administration and runs against the genuine will of the American people, who truly wish to help Ukraine.
Think about it: has the U.S. president ever once called Russia an aggressor, an invader? On the contrary — he calls the international criminal Putin his friend, chats with him at length and with apparent warmth, asks him not to bomb Ukraine’s energy infrastructure in winter, to pause his “cold famine.” In his office hangs a photo of him standing next to Putin.
The uncertainty that has surrounded the issue of a ceasefire and peace treaty for more than a year is, in reality, a prolongation of war, serving Putin’s interests. Trump claims that both sides are to blame for the war, or that had he been president earlier, the war wouldn’t have happened. But that’s false. Russia’s war against Ukraine began in 2014 and continues to this day — full-scale since 2022. And during 2020–2024, Trump was indeed president of the United States.
Mr. Trump does not know a Ukrainian proverb: “You can cross the world by falsehood, but you cannot return the same way.” It is said that the Trump family’s wealth grew significantly in the past year. As a true businessman, he understands only the language of profit and enrichment; to him, everything else is secondary. Perhaps he lacks an awareness that, in time, one must leave office — and eventually life itself — and that no fortune can save him from that. What matters is not how much you earn, but what you leave behind, and how you’ll be remembered: as a destroyer or a creator, a righteous man or a sinner. Human ego, emotions, talents — these cannot be bought.
As one wealthy man once said: “The taste of the pizza I eat doesn’t change whether I have a million or a billion in my account.” These simple truths must be understood — even, at the very least, in the twilight of life.
I began with the most complex and unfathomable mysteries of the universe and arrived at the simplest truths of our own world. All of it intertwines, revolves together, and carries us into the future. And that future — its shape, its light or darkness — depends on our awareness, our deeds, and our choices.
Photo: generated using AI
Author: Myroslav Grekh
