Convenience

Is it by utter convenience that this chair lay strewn across this hilltop, rusted and forlorn. Is it by utter convenience that those that never do anything wrong would be stolen from. Is it by utter convenience that people you would rarely ever talk to, be your best friends. Is it by utter convenience that time moves faster when you are in need of a picture.
Is it by utter convenience that time stops when you hear the sound of a shutter closing.
Is it by utter convenience that I sit staring at a desktop pondering my next word, and watching as the sun sets before my eyes, listening for a faint heartbeat or a creaking of the steps, while still wondering why everything has a purpose, and just when it seems to have a purpose, everything disappears, creating a clean slate, a new beginning.

Or is it something more.