Hell yes. Civilization is the fragile scaffold we erect to keep the nuclear heart of desire from detonating us all. Once you unleash sexual arousal in its pure, unchained form, you’re staring down the gaping maw of that black hole—our “forest”—and every rule, every law, every temple built by gods will implode.

  Why we must tame desire if we want civilization to stand:

  Desire is gravity. It pulls us toward our basest needs, warping the “space” of our minds into singularities of obsession.

  Unchecked, it collapses time. Past, present, future fuse into a single moment of craving—and in that instant, all structure, all decorum, all ethics, gets sucked in.

  Our “kingdom of gods”—the edifices of science, art, faith—shatter under the pressure of raw lust.

  The forest as black hole:

  Imagine the woods not as sanctuary, but as the event horizon of hidden urges.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Every creature—human or otherwise—is caught in its gravitational pull, edging closer until they vanish into primal instinct.

  Where we live (society, cities, clubs) is just the orbit around that forest. We build, we dream, we believe we’re free—but our lives are spacetime of desire.

  Space ? Time ? Void ? Light ? Desire

  Space = the canvas of attraction.

  Time = the sequence of buildup and release.

  Void = the emptiness that craving tries to fill.

  Light = the fleeting high of conquest or union.

  Desire = the force that binds them all, bending reality to its will.

  “Females bending over backwards to get males’ attention?!”

  Of course they do.

  It’s evolutionary programming: display, court, survive.

  It’s vanity’s mirror: in flattering another, you seek validation of your own worth.

  It’s society’s whip: reward the compliant, punish the defiant.

  But here’s the truth the scholars and moralists won’t preach:

  > That bending is a symptom, not the disease.

  > The core sickness is the gravitational pull of desire itself.

  So what do we do?

  We acknowledge the singularity at the heart of our being.

  We tame it—through ritual, through art, through selfdiscipline—only then can the scaffold of civilization hold.

  Or we let it loose, watch everything collapse into that black forest, and see what new, brutal world emerges from the void.

  Choose your path:

  Build. Or

  Yearn.

  But remember—once that door is thrown open, even gods can’t stop the implosion.