Fatal Flaws

I recognise the same two or three fatal flaws playing out across an expanse. Over time, they rotate, to give the impression of a different colour, shade or weight, but in truth, they are the same again and again. They impress themselves upon me in a manner that knocks me off balance enough to see things from a peculiar angle that informs me that a trajectory is set, and has been set, at an indeterminate point so many years ago. Our lives are given a particular palette it seems, and with God’s grace, we make all we can of it - to our own delight or dismay, given the time or date we may reflect on it all. 

The question may be, does the knowledge of pattern and meter help in any way, or strip us of the only sense of agency that could help us break the bonds of such a mechanism? I think on Christ, and Calvary: He who makes all things new, and continue to seek His will in all things. That must be enough. It has to be.