Sometimes things work out so well in life that your brain runs circles, devising ways of tricking itself into believing that what is happening is really imaginary. Then again, sometimes things in life don't work out so well and your brain does the same to convince itself that things aren't nearly as poorly drawn as they seem. Is this real, or are we simply imagining imaginings, dreaming of dreams, pretending to pretend?

Obscurity aside, recent events have transpired with such precision that I often find myself confused and bewildered. Is it possible I'm dreaming? Seemingly inauspicious outcomes have proven more favorable after lending time a bit of space to toil at the anvil. It's times like this, which reaffirm my shaky conclusion that time fixes everything. Time is the ultimate smith.

Sometimes, things fall apart and, sometimes, things come together. Everything is in a perpetual state of creation upon creation upon creation. Whether we are imagining this creation is irrelevant, I suppose.

That we are audience to a most remarkable craftsman and able to comprehend this work should be gratifying enough, but to fully release our grip and let life fall where it will is a greater capacity.

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