As a historian, it's both hard to believe in destiny and hard not to.
Teleology
I feel tight somehow,
dough rolled into a spiral and no room to expand. The oven turns on.
I am compressed like a black hole. I am immeasurably tiny
and vastly inevitable. Where is all this gravity going?
and where did it come from
The universe has rules. Everything exists to do just that
and no history could have ever been any different, or else it would have happened.
If things could be different they would
but rules make the world just like they make up our bodies.
We exist in the space between ice and water,
lava and stone
the future solidifying into the past, as quickly as it passes us by
like the cows on the side of the road,
still there in our minds even after we reach our destination.
Can destiny be applied retroactively?
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