Centuries pass
not in straight lines
but in circles
piled upon one another
and stretched
in genomic lines,
pulling free of destiny
we thought well-defined.
We look back
only to be distracted
by the patterns
cut up and rewound
until the tales are lost
in webs blown apart
by unexpected winds.
It is hard to see
paths forward
when past paths
overlap and spiral
out of our control.
Progress makes its own way;
only when control is stayed
by openness to change,
and comfort in staying afloat
until we land exactly where
we were meant
to come to rest.
annarino writes 