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.