Tender endearing opulence
a thought unthought before reaching
out to test the time of ages,
undividing the divide between
two souls who meet in chance,
the chance so fleeting, yet permanent
in its stain.
Ripples of faded lithe once held in the branch
of time, seldom seen in eyes unyielding
to the birth of fate discarded while destiny
began its trek to be born when happenstance
laid its hand on the very shoulders
of stubborn streaks and Independence
that once marked freedom,
you thought to be in your hands.
A road traveled and so little worn
from feet never having touched its ground,
yet the familiar draw beckons you
its a path you knew, have seen before
and breath in its smell of comforts,
like a home that somehow got lost in transcendence
and fell outside of your periphery vision that held
goals and dreams to be had at your perseverance.
Bending time in shape and sound,
a view that askew with unanswered questions
and belies the thought of finite definitions
that seek to lay its claim on naming life,
a bend of thought perhaps to be pondered,
"Chance has its hands on your Time."