Serendipity
A Poem
If there’s a heart, it will break,
what’s expected will not come.
Are we kismet or are we
something unexpected just for once?
So I’ll write something down
In the pages of your book,
and if you understand,
we’re meant to be, like serendipity.
How much of life’s divine?
That’s the wonder of it all,
that’s the hypnosis of the stars,
it’s one worst fear of ours.
How much of what you do comes back
In the setting of our suns?
How much of me was done before
those stars even begun?
How much of karma’s circumstance?
How much of fate, delusion?
How much of intuition is
just logical conclusion?
I can’t even say that I
believe in anything because,
this world takes advantage,
or at least feels like it does.
Am I the one who led me here,
or did some invisible magic
make me come the way I did,
convince me that I wanted it?
It’s a woman’s pain,
a woman’s question,
Am I really in control?
(But still, we always know that we
will never really know.)
Yes, the charm of happenstance
pursues me, haunts me, and
maybe we’re all accidents,
maybe none of this was planned.
Maybe, someday,
someone will have answers,
but I know it won’t be me.
Were we ever truly free
or is this serendipity?
