Why does life dangle things in front of us only to have them snatched away. As if the universe was simply ******* with us. If there is a god he sure has a ****** up sense of humor. Things are so delicate. We gather all the sturdy things we can find and hide within them. We are afraid to grasp for new things. The untested things the maybe breakable things. We fear that they might fall apart in our hands. and then we are we? we are standing outside our fortress of stability in the battlefield of fear and dreams with the pieces of dreams digging into our hands. So we retreat. and clutch the familiar things.