Each day we slough off

Our sleep

Our brush with Morpheus

To face the day.

We may well have a plan

A destination

A route.

Regardless we know

Not what fate

Will bring

Challenges we may face

Dire or delightful

Consequences.

Our pasts may

O’er take us

Our bright futures

Gone suddenly murky.

 

This is the parade

Take it for what

You will,

Think ticker tape

And balloons

 

 

See serenity in the storm

Calm in contention.

It is gloom

That brings doom.

 

May your journey

Get you

Wherever you might

Be going

Though there be only

One final destination.