It seems to thrive in the worst of times, gripping at the edges of life to tear it apart. You tremble at the very thought of it approaching, because you do not want to be caught in its flaming arms. It can cause pain, both mental and physical, and yet we still permit its existence. While it comes in times of war, it also comes when we are at our happiest. Balloons being released into the air, the wind guiding them like a spirit; children screaming when they see them float by; and the thundering of our feet against the gravel as we try to catch the orbs are not moments that bring us peace, but we still do not will them away. We all desire to sing, to dance. Chaos is neither our friend nor our foe, but it is instead a creature whose relationship with us is unique within itself. This is why it lives.