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Tuesday, June 16, 2009 // 3:42 AM

Into the hands of fate we render ourselves
Should we lose direction, focus or faith
Like ragdolls and marionettes of the human race

Like the sweeping winds
That bear us where they may
To craggy peaks we rejoice,
Despaired as we enter the whirling hurricane

Fortunate we face the smooth plane of earth
Dismayed as it elevates, the white flag beckons as we halt
Powerless as it slopes down, to a bottomless abyss

Into the hands of fate we render ourselves
Should we lose direction, focus or faith
when the only fate there is,

is of that moulded by thyself.

I just felt like writing that out in middle of the night. 430am to be precise. Been ages since I did that.

With each passing day, there's less and less self-belief or faith I see in people. Are we really so overcome?
Somehow, everytime this comes across, I'm reminded of my primary school days when I was a scout.
Of the very few lines in the scout creed, I only remember the last.

"Courage in all difficulties"

I'll be back when you call me; no need to say goodbye