You enter the world screaming. Not politely, not with grace, just raw lungs and panic. That’s the first scene in everybody’s play. The crying’s built in. What isn’t guaranteed is the laugh at the end.

Some people never get there. They leave this world the same way they arrived: terrified, bitter, grasping at scraps. But if you can survive the traumas, the betrayals, the bureaucracies, the cancers, and still find yourself chuckling in the face of it all, then you’ve beaten the house.

The real prize of life isn’t wealth or legacy. It’s walking off the stage with a grin, whispering the punchline nobody else caught.

What happens when the Christian God and Odin sit down for a quiet chat at the edge of forever? No lightning bolts, no burning bushes, just two old gods swapping stories about love, pain, and why humans can’t stop chasing the wrong things. It’s sharp, funny, and maybe a little holy.

Read Two Chairs at the Edge of Forever.
Because sometimes the gods talk, and it’s not thunder … it’s truth.

Three men. One cold room. No throne, no scrolls, no sermon. Just Jesus, Marcus Aurelius, and Plato arguing quietly about the nature of God and what the hell we’re all doing here. No answers tied up in ribbons. Just pain, purpose, and a road that doesn’t care who you are—only whether you keep walking.

Read: The Dust Is Where the Lost Are.