Like the dust falling from a hand
The dust taken to see the directions of the wind,
I scatter, falling, everybit apart, though
My existance for a purpose be,
I remain oblivious as i fall,
Of the fate that shall be mine,
Of the choices i could make
I would only say,
the reflection of the stars in the water,
Be the image; not the stars you think you see,
And so perhaps, I, the son of Adam
Did ever follow the fate so meant for me

And any choices i think i made,

Was indeed, fate, beguiled thus!


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