That which we are and that which we are to become too often represents disparate persectives. Driven by what we deem valuable, we strive to mold our perception of life into something which is neat and tidy altogether failing to understand that order in life is seldom achieved. Life is a frayed edge, a knot unravelled, yet we spend countless days trying to maintain and promote what is that we wish our lives to be.
Our will, often impotent against the tides that brought us where we are, struggles–always trying to make right what we perceive as wrong. Only the “I” is there–but what does this mean? A satisfying of some injustice? But what is justice but expediency and easy thoughts.