What are stories but for characters dictated by fate in its courses of both joy and sorrow? Of events unfolding from a seemingly ordinary situation in response to dire situations that arise, for such are the great stories made. Uncertainties, as nothing is constant in this changing world. Like the tree of life which withers the leaves of doomed souls in the eternal forest, and the dust which begs a ride with the wind, it does not endure in stasis.
A writer such as I cannot fully comprehend the intricacies of the world, we merely give you our outlook of it, perspectives which you may or may not agree with. It may amaze you to know of such stories, but like most stories it is reserved mostly in memories for the events whiz by, like fine grains of sand seeking escape through my cupping fingers and before I knew it, they've gone by and become yet again part of the Earth.
What is time?
They say if you touch a Great Red Tree, millenniums old, you will feel and understand the immensity of it. It flows like a river inexhaustible, like a bolt of silk unending beyond the human capacity to fully appreciate. We may split it in our pathetic attempt to seek its essence and manipulate, to find the smaller molecules behind the larger objects that our eyes may see. Yet, such endeavors will reap poor rewards other than hard lessons learned. Time is the province of God, and God alone.
What is the meaning of being human?
Some say it is to procreate as many as we can, and raise them to serve only God. Though the idea is charming, to this writer life is to be lived as gifts to be savoured not unlike great cuisine by the greatest of chefs. Every bite is tantalizingly delicious, every sip of accompanying drinks invigorating, and the bitter tang is to be endured similarly as the high that comes with good food. We may or may not be awarded similar gifts as others, but God is always thought upon as just, for our decisions contribute largely to our manner of existence, and He is merely the gentle hand nudging, encouraging us in His words to follow the Straight Path. We are His creation, His children whose hand he holds with gentle goodwill.
A writer such as I cannot capture it all.
We may only try, and hope that our attempt gives justice to the immensity of it all.
« return.