At each given point in time, a single string reverbrates in a bid to be twanged. It speaks its mind in a convoluted retrospective proposition. Its answer begets the question. Or why would it need to be twanged after its drone has already rung out? What is created, is so, because it was given that shape. A cow 'moos' because it makes that sound. A cow might well croak, but you would then have to make too many cumbersome changes to the universe. And who wants the universe to be more fucked up than it already seems?
That's, a spade, why, suitcase o' mine, is called a spade.