Fate isn’t the factor in your life
that makes something dramatic
or legendary occur.

Fate is the kind of coffee you drink.
It’s the road you take to work every day.
It’s the women you bump into
accidentally at the bus-stop.

Fate is what you see in the sky
and what makes the world turn.
It’s the color of knowledge
and the intelligence of the inanimate.

Balls roll across green velvet
and fall into the gutters
in the order they just do
because of what protrudes the mind
of the man who has stricken them.

Such is time and space.

In this world
there is no cause and effect-
just causes upon causes.
When a planet’s birth streams molecules
unfamiliar to a barren space
or when a cataclysmic meteor strikes
creating the world’s first swimming pool.

Even if it’s something as small
as choosing what candy bar you would like,
you create yet another step
to add onto the twisted,
four-dimensional stairwell,
that is the time line
of our life.

Somebody is conceived on a sensual night.
It’s been nine months and they’re ready to fly.
As that person arrives into the world
he doesn’t choose what reaction to make,

but this moment is very special
for subconsciously,
this baby takes his first step.
Even without strong legs,
he walks the unique universal road,
traveling the path
on an individual,
infinitely small angle.

Just like a Seed
with immortal hunger
makes an infinite number
of offspring.
A curved trunk
will yield curved branches
What happens in the future
is determined by the past.

Just like how a kid
born from and into violence
will turn out to be just as bad.
His parent’s aren’t married
because of how his mom
was raised by her dad.
The first move
in Tic-Tac-toe
always determines
how the game goes.


Everything is premeditated-
from the Galaxy’s first explosion,
comes the result of everything afterwards,
and everything that will ever be
for as much as we know.

In this sense, we have no choice.
What we’re going to do
is simply going to be done.
Barring this as true,
who can be blamed
for the actions they take
when an endless amount of possibilities
wait in store for all of us?

Or, more accurately…
when no possibilities exist whatsoever.