Sweet Nothings

Tell me a tale in cosmic consequences,
of thoughts with eternal truths,
where this day I live lasts always
according to my whim and will.

Whisper how immortality is a wish,
the genie’s touch upon my spirit
and assure me it was meant to be,
carved on time’s scroll prior to when I was born,
an ageless decree bonded and sealed
over my every second that I breathe.

Where tide and thorn of tried the mind,
we’ve grasp for point to ponder
why random seems to rule the world,
then ask could fate dare to play its part
in designing what we are forever?

While I can’t hold that ethereal hour glass
I don’t believe insanity was ever the creator’s inspiration,
but I do think we are the delicate composite
in choice and circumstance,
where the soul becomes the final composition
from what we did and possessed
with divine eyes having seen our decisions
before this world was made.

Ever hoping heaven has a sense of humor
to make this existence somehow explainable
other than to be given some shrug from winged shoulders
with the comment,
we’ll get back to you on that.