Heaven has fashioned a knife of irony to stab me with.
My own survival required me to counterbalance interesting with invisible.
The world inside myself is vaster and richer than this paltry plane, peopled with mere galaxies and gods.
Sometimes the truth has difficulty breaching the city walls of our beliefs. A lie, dressed in the correct livery, passes through more easily.
The truth may not be told. Here is an acceptable lie.
The twin gods, Necessity and Chance, walked among the stars. What needed to be, was; what might be, sometimes was.