From oblivion comes energy, and from energy, life. Life then advanced, ever so slowly, into consciousness, and was bursting at the seams from its' biological origins.
From the realization of consciousness, life began to ask questions. Why does it exist? What is the purpose of being? What is good? How did existence come to be?
The answers took on many forms. Some were so in awe of beauty and mystery that they asserted things based on pure intuition, and some could not stop asking questions and discovering, asserting things based on logic. Obviously, these two blended often, for somehow life had attained from instincts that intuition, and from observation that logic.
And so, from oblivion came the fragments of humanity, and they began to explore. Sometimes they killed each other, diminishing their ability to explore, and returned to mere energy on the ball of life they had come to live and die on. Sometimes they came together and produced more life, and experienced the mystery of love with another fragment of humanity, becoming more than they are alone for that time. Sometimes they created images to be heard, sounds to be seen, words to be felt. Sometimes they destroyed the things and fragments dearest to them because they believed in something.
Regardless, oblivion surrounded this life. Not threatening, not dark, not evil. Merely there. Man constructs to escape it, and many lead good and happy lives because of this. Because we create our meaning.
Some lose hope, and in purest consciousness, they see the oblivion before them, in them, and all around. They drown in it, become part of the truth of existence, and become one with despair. In their despair, they find that they need something. Some kind of meaning, constructed or not, in order to be happy. This is entirely necessary, and some say that this necessity points back to hope being a part of existence.
If this is correct, then oblivion is not all there is. However, when has desire ever made a thing true? Perhaps some assert that the hope precedes desire, and is the reason it even exists. That is, we construct meaning because there is a greater meaning to existence. Though there is no proof either way, one thing is certain: the simplest explanation is that life has no greater meaning than existing, and we are fortunate to have such creative energy for the time that we have given to us.
One can hope that greater meaning exists, that maybe some religion, some philosophy, some artform's pointing to it are proof that there is something more. It is deeply and truly fortunate for those that can hold this hope in their hearts. Regardless of whether they are right or wrong, they have something greater to live for. Their construction, in and of itself, makes them shine beyond what their base nature is. That is, they are not a machine of logic, needing no one, they are more and greater. The unfortunate side effect of this, of course, could be termed fanaticism, delusion, or faith. The reason this is unfortunate is because this often leads to the diminishment of humanity, when construction is so much better.
Some, however, merely do not want to be alone. They have had their fill of oblivion, and they construct in the hope that it will bring happiness in the simplest sense to others. For these people, all that religion, philosophy and art mean are reflections of the person that create them. Their frontier is others, and every experience is savored, every day full of adventure in the simplest sense.
It is fascinating, what oblivion makes humanity do. Fascinating and, at times, terrifying.