I feel as if I begin to sense the pages of destiny writing me in, and that I am at the where the plot begins to thicken. Has my life been in preparation for what is to come? For we all at one point in our lives feel as if we are meant for something, even if that feeling passes, or is beaten out of us. Myself, I have had dreams crash to the floor, and swept away; but another one I build upon where the foundations of the old once stood. And perhaps they are merely like stacks of cards, or of bottles, easily shattered. What is to come? Not even the wisest may know it — not at least some of the time, at any rate, and we cannot conjecture what times the prediction will not hold. Now, I stand at a precipice, and wonder if I could take wing on an updraft, or if it is merely and illusionary wind. Only one way to find out: jump!