From birth to death, we face myriad choices,

Do this, take that, disharmony of voices.

What child could learn, or man overcome,

Bedeviled by confusion from sun to sun?

A parent, a friend, relative or foe,

Appear to the weak, all others must know.

Yet into the world, free from their hold,

Each again faces “do as you’re told!”

A teacher, a boss, the cop on the corner,

All bow to their egos, none with clue warmer.

For fate is our Mistress, Karma her tool,

Discordance is manna, food of the fool.

Yet hope, like a candle, may lighten the night,

Guiding our fortunes, our futures soon bright.

From chaos emerging, comes loud, clear voice,

I fell in love with you, and it was not my choice.

For D C