Cycle of Chance


A sack of flesh and bones

controls a machine at a weight

of two tons, (including the sack,

two tons, one hundred and fifty eight

and a half pounds) moving

in spite of all the friction,

at a velocity that can almost

guarantee a different kind of trip

if circumstances, (a bump, a thought,

indigestion, another sack)

cause the mind to shift its own gears

into uncontrollable dimensions.

It’s almost always uncontrollable.

Although somehow that thin blade

between almost and always allows

the sack’s muscles to react

and lets the undeserving mind

go on

on borrowed time.

4 thoughts on “Cycle of Chance

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