A sense of destiny, of course, is sprinkled liberally amongst the young, but I, middle aged and drifting towards obscurity, know that character will out, and make its disappointments and possible justifications known to those who drift beyond the innocence of youth. We who talk of hope, publicly of course, breathing and dying within this frame we call an era; this brief view of life, know there is a bit more to it than that,
I caste the brochure of strategy aside some time ago, along with thoughts that each man might discover his destiny and accepted that, lost in a mass of beings, I would live a muddled life, much like yours , and struggle haphazardly along until death snatched the glass from my grasp, and forced me into a box labelled common history.
Grasp it while you can is my simple observation:, that single moment: that view of creatures unmoved by circumstance, or seasons evolving blind to your significance and the sense they offer of a lifespan beyond our own. I offer you no prospect of personal redemption, but this I know: you and I, striving to be significant, seek our moment of importance, working to justify ourselves individually and drive ourselves to protect our limited understanding, grasping the presence of evolving life within our own: growing an awareness which fuels and inspires the footsteps of this, the driven army, till we, who think our own dreams touch the immortal, understand, at last, that the immortal touches those more surely, who live unwary of themselves, lost as they are in the mysteries of life around them.