Repetitive structures.

Has there ever been a more adequate and eloquent description of the universe as repetitive structures? I would be hard-pressed to believe so. At the most fundamental level of matter there are thousands of particles fluttering about, their paths are traced out by no discernible force and traveling these seemingly random trajectories they meticulously carve out the pathways of existence. The form and function of all things is defined by the movement and the subtle arrangement of atoms and at an even more basic level the harmonic vibrations of strings; existence is the crescendo of this timid composition, and while not consciously aware of its own (and perhaps the one and only true) power of creation, they are as driftwood floating endlessly in the voluminous tapestry of space. Proverbial waves ring monstrously even in the empty vacuum that contains it and as if the spoken word of an ancient prophet was suddenly filled with life and brought into creation by the breath of his deity a new entity becomes real. What is perhaps even more fascinating than the thought of natural creation is the fact that such a thing as a smallest subatomic particle simply does not exist. At a quantum level, size is a misnomer, the word loses its meaning and ceases to exist completely, instead the notion is replaced by point particles; particles that literally occupy no space, contrary to neutrons or protons which are essentially quarks held together by a strong force, the apparent size we are used to measuring is the result of this force interacting with the quarks. Thus the resulting particle thrust into reality by a string vibration is a point, a small, immeasurable point lost in the crude frame of per diem existence.
Although the irony is lost on us, nature appears inherent unto itself, her graces adorn her faithfully and there are no details whatsoever to spare. The quarks form an integral part of all things, without them there would be no matter, no beauty to speak of. If you would imagine for a moment, the results from their interactions with forces also born of the harmonies and compositions of strings work to compose another cosmic melody, the birth of a proton. The process eagerly repeats itself, the string vibrates in different resonances, different notes plucked from the strings scattered about the most cradled dimensions ring true to form neutrons, perhaps another note to form an electron. These particles, once thought to be the most fundamental pieces of matter, interact via nucleosynthesis and from this process elemental particles are birthed. Following the birth of the universe, what existed was plagued by high temperatures, facilitating the fusion of these particles and elements and separating them in two categories following a cooling process: heavy particles and light particles, whereas antimatter formed as a fraternal twin to all particles, fade from the picture and are thrown into obscurity. All this within a second of our universe exploding into the canvas, setting, painting and artist almost simultaneously and in that precise order.
Should we forward time to the fading present we will find that the process is ongoing, like notes strummed and plucked, the strings of symmetry are comely grieving violins, engrossed in their symphony they have wrought an universe's, or a thousand even, worth of melodies, the reach of their rhapsody extends beyond all visible matter as it raptures more and more into its captivating sonata; all particles, all atoms, all objects, all men, all emotions, all thoughts, all epiphanies, all ideas, all interaction, all matter and all creation swoons for they hear the music of their maker. The beauty of symmetry is such that it revives in me the awe of existing time and time again, and I cannot make myself to forget the repetitive structures that play over and over again beneath the skein of all things.