This is an analogy of how humans sometimes believe that they are perfect and how the world was made for them. A story of how those who don't adapt will die when the tides of fate sway.
After a long rain, puddles would litter the streets. The lights would reflect off of them, creating a beautifully lit world. On the outskirts of town, there was a hole that was dug for construction. A puddle formed in it, fitting perfectly within the holes boundaries.
The puddle, given life by an unknown force, began to look at it's surroundings. "Wow," it thought, "I fit perfectly within this hole. How can it be that chance would do this?" The puddle, contemplating how it came to be in such a perfect world thought of a conclusion that seemed logical to it.
"Obviously, this world was made for me. And since there is nothing else that could have made this specifically for me, there must have been a higher power."
And the puddle lived, thinking the higher power made this world for it's perfect creation, the puddle. But as the days wore by, the puddle began to dry. But there were no worries for this puddle. "This world was made for me. I won't be allowed to dry up."
The following day, the puddle was completely gone, dried up by the sun. It only believed it was the embodiment of perfection that a whole world was created for. And as the ever shifting weather changed, it would come to exist and disappear, unable to adapt to the sun.
It would live only when the conditions were favorable, and die when it couldn't adapt.