simple twist of fate

knowing what we know (or think we know) about the universe, the creation, the random acts of indifferent bodies in random configurations of time, space, place, origin, and direction, how can this body, these thoughts, be my own? surely not. must be another minor step, a miniscule turning of the gears of serendipity, when something beautiful is uttered, when someone laughs out loud for no reason, when the clouds in the distance poke little looking holes for the sun so the beautiful light can come streaming down in beams and dance off of those meaningless particles of dust that seem to always populate the air. and it is all just chance, what we consider beautiful, what sickens us, what we see, how we see, when we see, what it is that stands before us at the moment when we choose to see, strictly chance. but chance can be fateful, as much as we are defeated and left coughing in the dust by chance, we also meet our grace by pure chance, none of it has been orchestrated, but we can still call it fate, because it is just how the coins fell, and nothing more.