When you start believing in fate, you realize that everything was a lie, and meaning itself bleeds dry of soul, wounded again by some radiant dream... On heaven's threshold you find yourself, suspended, yet down below cruel hell tugs at your heels, you long to weep, you ache to flee yourself, and the whole world... What then can you do, with your beautiful wings, shattered, why cling to the belief that some hollow glory awaits you in life, oh my heart?! And heaven lies distant, and you must reach it, with bleeding feet, through life's struggle, your victory lives only in your pulse, oh my heart!
# On the Step of Fate The world spins on, indifferent to my small griefs— a wheel that grinds whatever falls beneath it. I stand here, watching, hands empty, pockets turned inside out, wondering if fate is cruel or merely blind. The step I climb leads nowhere and everywhere at once— a threshold worn smooth by ten thousand footfalls. Behind me, the familiar streets fade into fog. Ahead, nothing but mist and the sound of my own breathing. They say the gods are writing still, their pens dipped in starlight, but I cannot read the words forming on the page of my life. Perhaps that is the mercy— not knowing what comes next, standing suspended between what was and what will be. The step holds firm. I place my weight upon it, one foot forward, the other trailing in yesterday. And if this is all fate offers— this moment, this uncertain climb, this small and stubborn insistence on moving at all— then let me meet it without flinching, let me be the kind of pilgrim who asks no answers, only walks.
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