Where do I end, and they begin?
Genesis of much chagrin.
A tale carried through the race.
With assumptions on its face.
Fastened tightly, tighter still,
With help from a living will.
“Must explain!” How we’re prone.
Yet some ease with the unknown.
What is this ease, why’s it here?
And how can we keep it near?
The things this ease does present.
Can we bring it on intent?
Our world is crumbling, as we write.
But we’re feeling fine, despite.
Dancing demons, burning shrew,
Knowing not what else to do.
On a path that’s never straight.
With destiny that’s never late.
There’s a date, but who knows when.
So, we carry on ‘til then.
Luck and chance or cause unseen?
Reality is as we deem.
Upon this truth, however slight,
Rests all fictional delight.
What shall we do, what will we be?
How will we play this guarantee?
This truth belies a tragic fall,
Lightening one and some and all.
Now and further down the line.
As if each might be inclined.
© 2020 TheRememberings Ltd.