Homerizing

There are choices and destiny. I was destined to be born. My will sat by waiting while I drew my first breath and screamed. I was detined to scream, weep, sorrow, moan. My will is not overcome by the immensity of my destiny. The first moment I decided not to cry, and drew calm baby's breath, maybe it was my mother's hand, maybe the light in the nursery, my will was enjoined to my destiny. My destiny set me afloat like a ship on a wine dark sea, but my will is not idle, like a good first mate, she sounds the alarm for storm clouds, and steers clear of that so dark horizon. My will and my destiny enjoined, they grow up together, like children. Well of course, they are both me; we are set upon this wine dark sea.