Futility, Eating, and Fucking
The products of civilisation are decoys to take our minds off the obvious.
Looked at objectively, an individual human life is an exercise in futility. All the striving, pains, and pleasures ultimately resolve in a final gasp. Nothing is left of the individual, and the body gives back the matter it had borrowed to nature. It’s the same for all living things, but humans seem to be unique in knowing how the story goes.
It may well be that the product of our obscene brains is nothing more than a way of diverting attention away from our inevitable fate. Our cultural, scientific, and artistic activities are wholly irrelevant as far as nature is concerned, and provided we procreate and live long enough to rear our offspring, nature seems well served.