What if time wasn’t linear,
moving from point to point,
but something you held in
your hands,
helping you see if your
tomorrows stood on a precipice,
about to come crashing down?
Then you’ll only realise what
you already knew but refused to
acknowledge. You’re not free.
Each decision you believe you
made was already made
and every choice melts
into the galaxy, affecting
someone you least expect it to,
the mind’s eye, though vast,
can only see so much,
the celestial hands that move
the pieces on the board
belong to infinity,
some might now opine
in indignation, “Are we mere
pawns? Are we playthings?”
Who knows the workings of
whom we cannot fathom even
if we possessed all the
knowledge in the world?
It would be akin to a mote
trying to comprehend why it’s
suspended in the darkness.
Inspired by the movie, Arrival.
Ordinary Person 
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