In my mind i picture a crucible full of emptiness of purpose. A crucible of glass tightened with a cork ad full of many insects with only enough air to support the more competitive. They crawl up ad down. Those at the top are considered to be living the best life, they call it heaven there ad the cork is the limit. Those at the bottom are weak, poor, hopeless, a stumbling block to the strong ad no wonder they want them dead. The rule of the jungle reigns ad no one insect is allowed to stay up there for long, there is continued movement in this prison. The insects up there want to step out for adventure but for those down there; its for freedom. Now, the crucible has an owner ad on his palm it rests.
The crucible is transparent ad those who want to see the owner can or at least all with eyes do. Now the maker constantly opens the cork ad choose to move some insects up while he brings others down there- call it his game. What the insects think of the owner is subjective. He is there ad nothing can change that. There is a problem, there air ad the light there is fading away. Soon there will be no life in the crucible, actually the owner intends to make it fall. The height at which the insect will be will at will matter no more but their life will all depend on the owner. The one who breathed life into the crucible. Now that’s our crucible ad purpose is with the owner.Meditate!.