Life is messy and irrational.
I make a plan, just to watch it fall apart.
So I concentrate on doable things,
sort out the dirtiness of real life
from the spotless world of my imagination,
even as these incompatible things
sow seeds of madness
in my burning, buzzing brain.
I try to distract myself
by looking at dancing birds,
I spend the day picnicking,
but cannot stop the seeds from sprouting.
Beautiful life and hope
by a stroke of bad luck,
by lack of money,
or the cultural tide
crashing against the cliff face of reality.
I feel threatened by the power of my will
and take a break from struggle.
I listen to hit songs,
study my successful peers,
read a person’s character by his garb.
I dismiss words and smirks.
I let things pass.
Cultish servitude to the past is gone:
today I worship Chance.
I no longer mistake a coincidence
for self-conscious Providence.
I create order out of chaos,
make a superior plan
from the debris of salvaged ideas—
and watch the new plan fall apart.
Chance is blind.
© Helen Kanevsky, 2017
|Waves from the Indian Ocean crash against the cliffs of Eagle Gorge,|
Kalbarri National Park, Western Australia
Photo by Gypsy Denise
from Wikimedia Commons