What are we but mere winds that blow where the gods whim,
A vessel for their favor and wrath.
If I should walk two steps and stumble,
maybe fate was delaying my death.
I took destiny by the scruff of his neck and bowed him to my will.
As master, I decide which road to take,
One least used by the gods mortal hands.
I will not relinquish my puppet strings to the immortals.