Missed by a whisker
almost there
bumping into each other
Standing in a queue
distracted by the gadget
longer than you could care
who was behind or ahead
third person from where you were
Coming close enough
to almost see one another
in the eye or the shared mirror
of an elevator
Fate has been paying chance
a handsome sum
to bring us each
to our destiny
To make it all appear:
"What are the chances?"
"How in the world!"
Choice has been enslaved to chance
longer than your sapience
would let you believe
Go figure.
How love of life
often settles/ gives in (sooner or later)
to arbitrary limits
of/in time and geography.
Chance gets/ remains underpaid
even in credit/ acknowledgement
as fate walks away
will all the accolades
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