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.

i know.

i know that look!
i know every word that is unspoken,
that lies within that look.
[why do so many share the same?]
that little jump, that little crinkled brow,
the little voice that inside echoes: ‘why are you this way?’

i know those words!

i see every word before it is spoken,
it lies within your mind
and spills forth from confidence assured,
[why do so many share the same?]
that little quirky smile, that little tingling fear,
the casual-sounding voice stammers: “you’re not like the others”

i know that very thought!
i hear it before it is even formed,
it lies within your questioning soul
and struggles to come forth,
[why do so many share the same?]
that little contemplation, that little preoccupation,
the little wonder that catches you by surprise: “why do you not belong?”

yes but none ever voice nor think nor see…
that i cannot help,
but be me.