beguilingly bought

without being told
there awaits
a curiosity
sought
and often
beguilingly bought
in the very
palm of your
hand
held tremblingly
of bridges and roads
and paths engraved
of grooved hills and narrowly lined valleys
of promises and preening predictions
and lengths that improve longevity
but what use of this fortune without the digits
to grasp it?

Dear Destiny,

Dear Destiny,

thou art but a mistress,
mover of a mere mortal will,
that yet shapes all that you usurp.

let it be..
it is not fate.
i find it not in the stars.
it is only
your reason that
rules over a life.

it struggles still..
towards the Light…
that does not exist.