Only a half letter has shown, the other parts had burnt to ashes as if it contains a secret that might displease someone, it has no sender so as the receiver. It is like an incomplete letter, it was not meant to be send. It reads:
World shaped by our own, by harnessing the intellectual minds. Progress after another, the effort lies as one but many stories.
A genuine truth of our reality spoke by the hands who created dreams and determination of one's will.
One of those minds create an ideology to be the ones who tumbling our progress; the one that is sought of our feelings to be controlled by the one is on top of the hierarchy, the one who had the power to hold, generate and create the things of "it's" own desire. We cling to "it".
All that is left-- is fate; it describe as a path had been sealed from God.
One says we ought must find the things you solely known; is the feeling that is important essence of reality shared with time.
Seeing the stars so bright in the day that near its end; for its to be called the second sun who had given up being one.
Yet the beauty still occurs in the night with our thoughts go wild for our many theories and assumptions that is childish stories that have been told many to many only it to contradict itself.
Find the way of living, create or shape it for you, fate is what left to decide, whether if its good or bad, it will come to you; the Truth.
-F
__Letter ends__