patterns
It seems that some will look their whole lives for some kind of pattern to life. They will drudge through jobs they never liked to begin with, pass through weekends at the bar, by mornings at the chapel.
When this happens, then this action will occur. Whenever you have A, you will then create B.
There are very few real patterns to life. Karma is a fiction fed to the under-privileged. Things that go around don't always come around. Sometimes the good live long lives and the Jerks die young.
There is one pattern. One pattern that holds true in each and every human life. It is oft-ignored. The individualist seeks not to find it. The pattern of love for each one, 'til death.
We have but one life. There are correlations, or what seem to be correlations. Exercise for good health. But often enough to rip that pattern to shreds, a runner will drop dead. Heart-attack, stroke, blood clot. Exercise, eat well, and you will live long, maybe.
Obey your parents, and you will have the potential to live a long life. You will have a shot at it anyway.
We find one pattern, but one, that holds true. While breath exists in our lungs, we are loved with a love that grants forgiveness. After that point we lose our choice. Or rather, we have made that one choice. It has been written in stone. Not to be found in a cemetery, that choice we have made is written on everything we know and have known.
It has been engraved into those we knew and loved, it is written in the stars, and on our hearts. We become that choice, the very embodiment of the pattern that we will repeat until the end of time. We will forever live forgiven, or forgiven but unaccepting.
When this happens, then this action will occur. Whenever you have A, you will then create B.
There are very few real patterns to life. Karma is a fiction fed to the under-privileged. Things that go around don't always come around. Sometimes the good live long lives and the Jerks die young.
There is one pattern. One pattern that holds true in each and every human life. It is oft-ignored. The individualist seeks not to find it. The pattern of love for each one, 'til death.
We have but one life. There are correlations, or what seem to be correlations. Exercise for good health. But often enough to rip that pattern to shreds, a runner will drop dead. Heart-attack, stroke, blood clot. Exercise, eat well, and you will live long, maybe.
Obey your parents, and you will have the potential to live a long life. You will have a shot at it anyway.
We find one pattern, but one, that holds true. While breath exists in our lungs, we are loved with a love that grants forgiveness. After that point we lose our choice. Or rather, we have made that one choice. It has been written in stone. Not to be found in a cemetery, that choice we have made is written on everything we know and have known.
It has been engraved into those we knew and loved, it is written in the stars, and on our hearts. We become that choice, the very embodiment of the pattern that we will repeat until the end of time. We will forever live forgiven, or forgiven but unaccepting.
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