The Hands of Providence
In the hands of providence
or the dull blade of shifting winds,
judgement s are made
by those with whom the end rests,
and given truth or lies so wrapped
in distraction, who’ll decide
the slender hand of finality
for a life to abide.
Is it a balance arrived by fate,
a bias directing a bogus bate,
contrived to entrap a helpless soul,
or is it a vengeful retaliation for believed wrong,
all attentive ills of human injustice,
delivered so eloquently to placate
the need for venting, and the comfort
of righteously sending souls to recompense?
Motives are subtle,
like deep currents beneath the flesh,
and few know their depth, their quiet intentions
when called upon to judge,
to critically see beyond doubt the fate of
innocence or guilt,
presented with the utmost bias
on both sides of right.
Is providence then some magic power,
attesting some but not others,
perhaps providence is in judgement too,
to decide fate, false or true,
or are we just pawns in a random game,
our stupidity for wrong our own conclusion,
penance the harsh reproach of dark lessons
to be learned at cost.
The winds indeed shift in monotonous irregularity,
and fate, if it at all exists, seems fettered,
as if one more step to answer before it strives;
so are we in the fickle hands of chance,
a pawn of such helplessness,
or does our own mind take pride of place,
a direction in the face of adversity,
a control we wish we knew?
Justice is a tedious thing,
as we all see everything differently,
so it is more what we can abide that dictates
how our bias works or doesn’t
for some soul being judged,
facing a recompense that we in our choice deliver,
and they suffer the consequence and cost
of our perception.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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