Thought...

I often wonder about the nature of reality, about our relationship to the creative force that forged the particles of our stars and intertwined them with the molecules of our bodies. Who are we, and where are we actually sitting within the architecture of our universe?

Are we alone?

Or is the answer simply stranger than we can think? Not to burst your bubble, but the Earth is not the center of the universe. At least not anymore.  You are not the star of your own movie. Humans are not the top of the food chain.

And fate is a fantasy.

But I can't prove any of this, even if I wanted to. There is an indefinable mysterious power that pervades everything. I feel it, though I do not see it. It is this unseen power which makes itself felt. There is an indefinable mysterious power that pervades everything. I feel it, though I do not see it. It is this unseen power which makes itself felt.

There is... Reality simply isn't what it used to be. Things are not what they seem. Everything around us is a mental construct. We create our own reality. Breaking that down is hard to do. And once it's done, there ain't no coming back. What happens to people when their fundamental beliefs, the bedrock of their understanding, explodes into a million fucking pieces. When something comes careening from out of the blue and it messes with everything we know.

There is an indefinable mysterious power that pervades everything.

Beliefs are mercurial things. They direct our lives and choices, moment by moment. This doorway is to the imagination emporium. Harness the hunches polished with proof. They're like clothing you can't afford. They elevate us, yet they're not ours to keep. We discard them when they no longer serve our needs. 

Or we find out they weren't real at all.