Before asking what's going on in reality all about us every day of our lives (for that's one thing we all have in common, life seems to revolve around each and every person while we're all stuck inside our own skulls) we must consider, what does meaning itself appear to be?
These are not the thoughts we ordinarily want to pursue, me and you while we float on down the stream together or apart, but we can take the time to give it a shot knowing that a side of us would always look back and wonder. And if that's not as good a characterization of understanding as any, I may not know what would be.
In centuries past the scope was grand and moved with slow, methodical growth. Across those spans of time, and in between humanity's generations of offspring, the polishing of our collective memory performed its trick and the paragons of history transformed into the champions and monsters of our dreams.
The technological singularity may only have one explanation...one interpretation...one form. Billions of people flourish and die while others are generated to crawl out from inside us to be dumped off on the margins of this road like everyone else.
The thoroughfare resembles a woven spirallelogram describing the path we've taken for longer than anyone before us (far ago gone and long dragged under) could have known. These passages may as well have bobbed up like corks out of the darkness. The solid ground beneath our feet has felt as if it could never be swayed.
If one denotes that which persists intended to signify something fixed or static then we won't find it in the mechanized fulcrums of the evolving universe. Significance then by definition becomes that sense which we impart upon the chaos of our lives. In other words, there's no analysis to be discovered, only invented.
One man's perception, identified by others, may grow to be revealed and one day consume the world.
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