It’s a fortune cookie religion,
Where we abide by our own truths.

We crack them open in the kitchen,
And spill out our papers of youth.

We count our lucky numbers,
As we count our own turns of fate.

It’s a crystal sugar alter now,
And this cookie is my soulmate.

I love the faded white paper,
As I adore the soft blue ink.

I allow the cookie to mold me,
What I love, what I hate, what I think.

I love it best when they hold true predictions,
Gazing into my life like a crystal ball.

I won’t succumb to only a simple quote now,
I’d rather be told when I will stand and when I’ll fall.

Not ever will I let the cookies fool me,
Or glide right through my past like it’s untrue.

Instead I’ll weave the cookies through my whole life,
I’ll let them choose me because through them I chose you.