It is so fortuitous that you so recently replied to one of my comments because it prompted me to read this and a similar article of yours.

The reason I call it fortuitous is that I am going to have to do something like this in order to wind up a story that, because it is now my favorite story-child, I will greatly miss when I complete the final part. (Open the tab, “PEOPLE.”)* You might prefer the word synchronicity but I am thinking of the root word of fortuitous — fortune — in the sense of the opening of Carl Orff’s masterpiece Carmina Burana, “Fortune, Empress of the World.”** The POV character did not ask for it, rather, his candidacy for transformation was thrust upon him. (Thank you Mr. Shakespeare.) I didn’t know that it was going to wind up this way until about halfway through part 2, but now it is pretty much laid out in my head, pestering me to emerge.

I need to inhabit my POV’s head into his rocky transformation, which involves God — not the all-transcendent being of modern imagination, but rather the god of the Old Testament, except crustier. This isn’t going to be the nicest of transformations. Hence Mr. Orff’s choice of poetry, with its existential angst, fits. I’m going to need to eschew all new-agisms. I’m glad that I happened upon your articles.

*Hopefully that link will work. If not search Medium on “Weirdacre” and open the PEOPLE tab.

**O Fortune,
like the moon
you are changeable,
ever waxing
ever waning;
hateful life
first oppresses
and then soothes
playing with mental clarity;
poverty
and power
it melts them like ice.

Fate – monstrous
and empty,
you whirling wheel,
you are malevolent,
well-being is vain
and always fades to nothing,
shadowed
and veiled
you plague me too;
now through the game
I bring my bare back
to your villainy.

Fate is against me
in health
and virtue,
driven on
and weighted down,
always enslaved.
So at this hour
without delay
pluck the vibrating strings;
since Fate
strikes down the strong,
everyone weep with me!