Though I didn't know it at the time, I heard the Siren's song within my mother's womb. Even before I was born, I was being drawn to my death.
All babies are empty vessels, open journals filled with blank pages. Though their story hasn't been written, circumstances have established much of their plot.
Like other children, the values of my parents soon became my own. In ink I'd write each lesson upon a stone, placing it within the empty container of my soul.
Who decides what fills our earthen pots? Who decides our fate? Who writes our moral code? The pot is filled. Fate is sealed. Destiny is written.
The efforts which we make to escape from our destiny only serve to lead us into it.