A life away
You intertwined our fingers
And whisper, this is fate
It cannot be by chance.

But little do you know,
There is no guiding hand
We are a combination
Of one path that we took
And the rest that were not taken
And in this very moment
I read a book in a café
I watch a movie from my bed
I ski across the Alps
I breathe your scent
Mingled with the aromas
Of coffee, sleep and freshly packed snow
And of many, many more
And yet
The braid made by our fingers
Is duplicated countless times
Through all these permutations

You see
The odds were therefore in our favor
Alas, no mysticism here
What you call fate, is chance
The guiding hand of nature.