life is strange, often beautiful, then you die

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Life emerges, has its day, departs to nowhere, and remains unknown, except for we persons who may remember a life.

We are the only species that conceives futures and may remember, briefly, long, maybe canonically, maybe historically. But only persons do that, not the deer, not the poor mayfly.

Say what you will about the cosmos. Investigate until you die. Yet,
the glorious reality of it all is us: the only known intelligence in the galaxy, the only intelligence on Earth that inquires persistently.

We are the only form of life which may design futures which may be actualized.