It isn’t power you want. You don’t want the ability to destroy things, or to mend things. You want the feeling that things are right as they are. The feeling that you are fulfilling your destiny. You want serendipity. Everything is in place, dammit, every single little piece… from the smallest insect creeping along the twig of the bush next to you, to the little knowing smile on the face of your loved one as she turns to you and says nothing, because there is no need to say what is clear even to your mean understanding.
Even your stupid-smart brain gets it: there is no need to think, because everything will find its place without your help. All your striving is useless! You stand on the earth, so thin and fragile, and the Earth moves beneath you… and you don’t understand; you never will. You can never grasp the fact that you are whirling about the center of an entire galaxy at mind-numbing speed… but it doesn’t matter.
The simple fact of your existence is so fucking improbable that it’s ridiculous. That you go through life without having been killed even more so. That you fall in love with the only person who is made for you, only for you… well, need I say more? It’s so improbable that it is almost impossible, but not quite. It’s serendipity. It’s like laying your head in the guillotine and hearing it whistling down to get you, only to have it get stuck. And while the executioner is repairing it the revolution is called off, and you are pardoned. Not only that, but the pardon reaches you in time, and the executioner doesn’t decide he couldn’t care less, to kill you anyway, because after all, dammit, there must be order.
Why do we want this? Why do we yearn after a higher power, be it a God, or simple fate? Why don’t we humans want to take things in our own bloody hands? Why are we so weak? Because we are. We are weak, and we know it.

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