Change is the facility of God

At a loss of a form of communication,
I stop.
Observe.
My back against the wall,
Wondering how I got here.
Are these surroundings the creation of my choices?
Or perhaps, this room isn’t my life.
It certainly doesn’t have a mark of me.
It doesn’t even resemble my face, my soul, my mind: me.
I’m not sure I understand.
This is my experience.
This is what qualifies as my life, yet not through my own devices.
How did it come to be,
This word that brought so much confusion: me?
How am I supposed to go about possesing anything about my life?
I am a passive observer, especially in my most passionate pursuit.
I can see scenarios rise, but only in the present.
My past has a semblance of relevance,
And yet it is the equivalent of a dream.
I push against the wall,
And suddenly,
Epiphany.
This wall pushed me.
This provides clarity, but none that men will accept.
Hah, and now I see.
Men’s pursuit of truth is the equivalent of a child faced with truths contrary to convention.
We cannot accept that which changes too much.
Change is the facility of God in which existence progresses.
Evolution is change.
Love is change.
Existence is change.
I am change.
You are change.
God is change.
Insanity is the natural progression of the mind.
Every view on reality holds as much weight as the last,
In terms of truth,
But in terms of humans?
Ha, our truth is convention.
And this won’t change, not as long as humans are still around.
It can’t change.
And we will accept it.
With open arms, and closed eyes.