To find the next of fickle fate,
Which always shows a bit too late,
Perhaps for us but not the whole,
Is the reason, it’s our role.
We cannot know how we will err.
Or else the err would not be there.
And so, we’re walking in the dark.
Until we fall and reach a mark.
And the tragedy ensues.
As the old’s become the new’s.
Where the mistakes made are plain.
And everything stands to gain.
This reality of ours.
And the ways it wonts its powers.
It seems rash and discontent.
It acts itchy and intent.
It is funny and it is sad.
Not sure what more I can add.
I can observe and preserve,
Until I get what I deserve.
What I deserve is a fall.
A little penance for the all.
© 2021 TheRememberings Ltd.