Ironic Truth 

It occurred to me, in these past days, that despite the precautions, or lack-there-of, that we take, the ineffable does happen. Things do, and will, turn. Are these occurrences the doing of quite simply, yet delicately complex, the intricate work of fates tapestry? it is human nature to want control over mortally untameable, and often inevitable, circumstance. 

Even in doubt the thought of the possibility that nothing is coincident lingers in my mind. This, however, is also human nature; a defence mechanism, due to our most instinctive need for purpose. 

Vainly, we attempt to manipulate the definitive idea of fate to suit our own selfish needs. We distort the simple beauty of its design, and what we are ultimately left with is a Frankenstein-of-a-monster. In the end our truth is so grotesquely unidentifiable that we don't recognize ourselves. What have you become?

For many, enlightenment comes too late. For many more redemption seems light years away, and salvation is an all but forgotten dream; a mythical creature.

Sure to find peace and happiness, multitudes spend their entire lives hunting down their elusive, unilateral game. They spend fortunes and sacrifice all but their own lives in search for what, to them, seems to be the ultimate prize. Surely worthy of a soul, they foolishly relinquish their humanity into the greedy embrace of malignant forces. All dignity, and hope, seems lost. When you're alone, becomes the only certainty.

Ironically, the truth was us all along.