Staring defiant
into the blind eye of fate
the winds of circumstance
early not late

Staring back angry
its other eye blinked
as clouds blew misfortune
too close to the brink

I reached for my inkwell
I dipped in my pen
my final last script
to enoble the end

With one word I started
whose epistle came fast
to carry me onward
—goodbye was my last

(The New Room: May, 2022)