pack your bags and perch yourself
on the highest of stakes
overlooking the city and her scape
looking down you may find
that someone has taken up their charcoal pencil
only to draw cruel frowns
on the faces of those who claimed to love you
but never mind the unpredictable pathos of the mind
half a million miles away
the sun will threaten to blind
until the day that it dies
and who it catches in the snares of its rays
are left up to the fingers of fate
happy accidents, lucky misfortunes
they’re all just rocks on the path
that led you to today