My Fate.

Not many could say,

But I am fond of my own fate..

I will live quick

And die young;

I may not see, even then, too clearly;

I will be stubborn in my sins

And reticent in my givings;

Some people will be good-riddance,

Others, I will miss dearly.

And I am aware that

Not many will know me -

Not many will know me,

Truly,

As I am,

And as I always have been..

(I prefer matches over lighters.)

I see my fate

As clear as day -

At the age of sixty,

Wandering to and fro,

In locales unknown,

Amongst a million lost souls,

Each asking the other,

'To where are we supposed to go?'

And the wisest response -

Coming from a forgotten old man -

'I don't know.

The only truth is the End.'

I do not fear the End;

I do not fear death;

The soil that bore us,

Shall, just as easily

And swiftly;

Just as humbling-ly,

And just as wisely,

One day,

In the moment we least expect,

Come to our aid

And end all dread;

End suffering and pain;

End agony and anguish..

And hypocrisy;

End joy,

And leave nothing for envy.

And if I shall,

In the distant future,

Wake from the grave,

Then,

After the long-lasting surprise,

My sole response -

I know -

Shall be a melancholy 'okay.'

The End.