How auguries go, and fate consigns you
In beauty or vain, The road taken guides
And thorn roses grow, as life defines you
in love or disdain, to fate one abides.
A fickle canopy, so sadly portrayed
Behind worn old eyes, and with broken lyres
Unsure what to see, and the chords misplayed,
Time shrivels in size, perplexed by the fire.
As memories flood, and regrets appear,
One tends to wonder how this fate was allowed
With scars drawn through mud, confounded by fear,
The mind is thunder, clapped and disavowed.
Should I tell the clock, that it needs to work,
To keep the night ticks, and hasten the hands
Where trice seconds flock, and long minutes lurk,
However quickly gone are future plans.
But still that nagging metronome patters
My dreams trodden; But the drawing board calls.
With my head sagging, as the rain spatters
Ideas blossom, then fall back in withdrawal.
Thoughts persist in an ill-lit lecture room,
Curious of life, and if this was it
Was I a madman, impending my own doom?
Mitigating strife, was how I’d commit.
So, with perfect aplomb, and magnetic lure,
Seamlessly I accept what fates draw near
Without blush or qualm, I am reassured,
With love as a percept, that I am here.
And that there is no better place to be
Than in the present, granting the rose its hue
Mindful of fortune’s throes and destinies
Free of resentment, primed to start anew.
With those auguries gone, and roses dehisced,
And time sparsely free; This belief is what I take—
That though time lives on, and fortunes stay amiss,
My fate lies with me, to become what I make.