Foreseeable Unpredictability?

A midst pin drop silence, I hear voices. They whisper. Whisper something to me in my ear. I don't quite understand the words, but they sound very aloof. Words being aloof? I don't know. They sound like a never ending chain of thoughts that I can't keep up with. They say something in the language of moments. Now, who seems to understand that? I only seem to understand it, after the moment has passed. Better late than never they say, but sometimes it is never. Is it my mind playing with my thoughts or are my thoughts playing with my mind? I don't know.

I see the sun. It just came up. Came to greet me. What if I don't like its presence? What if I like the fact it goes down every night to betray the promise of survival it made to mankind? What if I like that it doesn't stay faithful to the new skies, and makes them live through the beauty of illumination only to leave them in the end with darkness? Oh look, it took offense and bid goodbye.

The moon gives mixed signals. It is playing with emotions and time. It even changes its appearance, sometimes half full, and sometimes half empty. Is it being diplomatic? If so, why? Altering forms day by day. I don't quite seem to comprehend. Borrowing a part of the sun's aura, it claims to be beautiful. If that's not enough, it becomes the center of attention by hiding between the clouds.

Are we living in a world of expected unpredictability? Are we immune to those surpassed emotions, and just choose to make those same mistakes just to live the good and happy beginnings and complain about the harsh climax? I don't know...