If I was honest, and I’m not, I would admit that my life, at best, is a bad short story and at its worst, Beowulf in the original Middle English. I am tired of society’s rules and their pious groveling artificiality, especially those concerning possessions. Obsession with possession decays lives and ruins the chance for happiness. Possessions make captives of us all. To possess is to capture or to imprison. Still, no person can own another person, just as I can’t hold the air although it is there, I have no authority over it. It does as it does and it is as it is, air the ultimate freedom word. A superstitious society has usurped natures’ way and taken what is natural and turned it into black and white, good and evil and right and wrong, building fences around the things in this world here for our enjoyment, pleasure and understanding. Now, things that once frightened me no longer have that power, but are boring inevitabilities that I couldn’t and wouldn’t do anything about although I am not yet prepared. The inevitable will come soon enough but I have no desire to invite it to dinner. This is just the natural cycle of things.