Chance

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

are destroyed 

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