As quoted by Sir Albert Einstein, “I am convinced that he does not play dice.”

The belief that the fortune and the destiny and the working of the time is all planned and written maybe what not? Whatever occurs or happens they blame him. The fact that they then once laughed his existence and now they question their own inevitable results of various deeds. The rational ones blame the consequences and the human tendency whereas rest cry over what they accept as is his decision.

Maybe sometimes it’s all nothing.

It’s as if no thing that all stress about exist.

There’s a big world of mine. Everyone has.

I can explode it so huge, with my cruel instincts or let it blossom as per what is my way.

It’s all the naughty actions of the obstinate universe out there, and we too play with it.

How time shapes itself is an amazing yet depressing fact to consider.

That time when the universe screams into your soul saying,

Do you know how and what I am?

How supreme and grand I am?

What are you compared to me?

And just how that world runs under the laws of science, you smile up and reply proudly,

“Dude I am you”.



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