Why allow the falter of its own course when one can see it so plainly? To what is an adventurer if only one to be pleasantly surprised by the very prediction that put them there in the first place? To that which a context one may find themselves in is only the deep-rooted decisions and inner complexity (and hence simplicity) of the psyche. If one knows the answer, then why do many still ask the question to another? Is the seed of doubt so extravagant? Or is there a trust in self that only a trust in numbers can bring? There is so much more to realise than one can plain, and still, it is of their duty to plan as well. What is spoken here? Observations of the past brought to the present only to be the past once more, and such that what is all this? A cycle.

Meditate.

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