What does the future hold? There are so many variables, parameters, and unknowns that can determine the possibilities. But despite all the scrupulous, hardened truths that can be calculated, there can be no guarantee. All results can be rendered moot by the chaos of the present.
In vast chaos, can such a string of possibilities exist, with enough tautness to demonstrate its likelihood? If such strings exist in the universe, who plucks them to bring a tune into existence? Does each action in every moment tighten or loosen the knob? A loose string cannot be struck, and if it cannot be struck, its tune becomes lost, and with it, its purpose.
We all carry a string within us, plucked each moment in a rhythm. That rhythm determines one's own existence. Once the string is stopped, silence prevails: a profound, eternal silence. The tune ceases, and with it, all resonance perishes. Do all the strings of life play in harmony, forming a giant orchestra upon this pale blue marble, a symphony of music for the universe to hear? And if so, who conducts that orchestra? What determines the momentum, the tempo, the measure?
Each day, each moment, one string strumming its tune: the melody echoes through the conscious, and reverberates.
Inspired by Amadeus (1984) — on the question of who conducts genius, and whether the composer chooses the music, or the music chooses the composer.