Originally posted March 4, 2007.
[reposted because of this]

Destiny is eccentric, elusive, unfathomable. And while I do not have the wisdom to divine the infinity of his facets, I do not believe that he is as resolute and as unrelenting as he is often painted to be.

Destiny's book may be absolute. But its countless plots and stories are not. The words are constantly changing, shifting in form, conforming to your will. It is your will that carves those words. And it is your will that ultimately shapes Destiny.

Love, though it first and foremost belongs to Desire, is also Destiny's.

Love may have been born in the realm of Desire. But it is bathed and washed, groomed and raised, in the realm of Destiny. For, after all, Destiny's hands extend far beyond his own garden to the inner crevices of all his siblings's dwellings.

But while Desire may prefer to keep you in his/her/its web to play his/her/its complex games, Destiny urges you to move on.

"Love is a choice," he whispers to your ear, though you are far too human and insignificant to hear. "Choose," he mutters as he turns another page.

Destiny has no will. But he holds in his book the myriad textures and flavors and echoes of our will. And Destiny understands that ultimately, he is no more than the offspring of our choices.

PS: Musings above are based on the characters created by Gaiman. Underlying meaning, once deciphered, is obviously meant for someone-we-all-know-and-love.