O what forgotten providence, to which my soul falls victim on and off and on again, indecision marking each page with dog eared brutality. Know not, want not, we could never truly return a moment as inconsequential as that which marks. . . Providential Dreams whose ends are more mutably cataclysmic than their begins. Can only be born of indecisive wonderlust, Impendent scenes are nothing but Providential Dreams As providential dreams are nothing But necessity.