(With a nod to Forrest Gump.)

Sometimes there weren't enough rocks.
Sometimes nowhere near enough tears.
Sometimes no matter how far I ran,
I was slowed by too many years.

Then once in a while the rain would stop
and the clouds would thin just a little,
long enough to show me the stars,
enough to shed light on life's riddle.

Is life just a box of chocolates?
Or can we choose whatever we please?
Are each of us here with a purpose?
Or are we feathers on a breeze?

Can our choices make a real difference?
Can we navigate the storms that we face?
In the end is it down to old father fate,
Or is there an offer of grace?