Milk Mountain

What is the Universe? A clump of atoms, moving about, some with purpose, some without. What are you then? A part of a bigger whole, or your own existence, your own Universe contained within the flesh of your continuity? But how can you exist, when you have no sustenance, nothing to feed your soul, born of stars? You must travel, for there is no more sustenance left, for all of which was once good, milk, has now become filled with malice, become warm. 

There is only one place, where this malice of warmth has not reached milk. 

Milk Mountain.