Facing frontwards, facing backwards
There comes a point when you realize, you’re going to live in this world, die in this world, and there’s nothing you or anyone can do about it – somewhere, out there, there are presidents and kings, but that’s not you, you didn’t make the world, you didn’t choose it, but it’s here, and sometimes, it’s wonderful, and accept it or not, that’s always your choice, but if you don’t accept it, don’t start living in it, start doing whatever it is you find you need to do, then before you’ll know it, this little spoonful of life that has been measured out for you will be half-drunk up and all the hopes and dreams of younger idealistic days will have been snuffed out, ground up, scattered like the spiderwebs that others have walked through –
But consider the alternative – to live in this world which others have made, to stand on their shoulders, throwing balls in the air through the thick medium of Time, ‘till one day, you look around, and through the tragedy, see, that the world is now yours, and it is the world that you made, that you chose, and destiny us an extrasynchronous word for what is the dynamic time-based process of becoming, and you have and are becoming and though your life is finite, dwindling, it is yours and full and rich and wonderful.
Ultimately, it is a choice. Turn eyes open and face the black hole with its bright stunning radiance – or turn your back on it, and shiver in the shadow of your own self blocking the way.