The twin gods, Necessity and Chance, walked among the stars. What needed to be, was; what might be, sometimes was.

The world is seldom so simple that it hinges on us alone.

It is permissible to be the god of your own metaphors.

And I realized a wondrous truth: that knowledge could be our treasure, that there were things humankind knew that we did not, that our conquest need not comprise taking and killing, but could consist of our mutual conquest of ignorance and distrust.

Was it probably true that reasoning beings were equal? It seemed more like a belief than a fact, even if I agreed with it. If you followed logic all the way back to its origin, did you inevitably end up at point of illogic, an article of faith?

However strenuously the world pulls us apart, however long the absence, we are not changed for being dashed upon the rocks. I knew you then, I know you now, I shall know you again when you come home.

Metaphor is awkward, but emotion, by its nature, leaves you no more scalable approach.