The Destined Unfortunate.
We are doomed to meet the fortune
Venturing to every one of us soon.
Let us learn to move out
Of a gloomy groove;
Find a rhythm in solitude.
Endings are often dreaded.
Your preparation for funerals,
Last times and memories are decided
By the creator of life, who will make
You compelled to murmur, ‘Why?’
Argue with the destination,
And end up as nothing,
But someone who is blatant.
Appreciation has wisdom,
Better than a tactical revolution.
Overthinking and preparation are
Polluted in their roots and patterns.
‘Who am I?’ I begin to wonder, If not
Another person seeking answers
And a revelation from birth onwards.
If we are out of options, Dostoevsky said,
‘When reason fails, the devil helps.’
A statement packed with a cautionary tale
That argues how we navigate our life’s sail.
Without the desire for and
Consequence of anguish,
We would not call ourselves
The Destined Unfortunate.
