To every thing there is a season

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose. The Earth spins at a thousand miles an hour as we desperately try to keep from being thrown off. Like the first blush in winter, that signals a great migration. Was there any warning of their arrival? A sign, a single event that set this chain into motion? Was it a whisper in God's ear? Survive. Adapt. Escape. And if we could mark that single moment in time, that first hint of the prophecy of approaching danger... would we have done anything differently? Could it have been stopped? Or was the die long ago cast? And if we could go back, alter its course, stop it from happening... would we?

Was the die cast from the very beginning? Or is it in our own hands to alter the course of destiny? Of all our abilities, this free will that truly makes us unique. With it, we have a tiny, but potent, chance to deny fate. And only with it can we find our way back to being human.