I looked up my destiny in future’s catalogue,
It didn’t have one but a hundred;
All borne out of ash and rubble,
of struggles and tough treks.
Every time was not good enough,
Every move could’ve been done better,
Every mistake could’ve been avoided,
Every version of me could’ve been different.
But I was still me, and complaining never helped,
The future catalogue was just a bunch of possibilities,
Of all the combinations I can try and make of,
To be someone, somewhere at sometime.
But all in all it was a stupid idea,
To want to sneak a peak in the future;
What’s unwritten is full of possibilities,
Knowing the unknown is not required, it would seem.
We are so busy concluding our lives,
We try so hard to live like a movie;
But life doesn’t have closure or a perfect ending,
It’s just a series of happenings.
We want to learn the future and erase the past,
We want to change and stop time;
We are so busy wanting to do the impossible,
That we never use the ability to do the possible.
I don’t need a future to define me,
My destiny will be what I make of it;
I’m surrounded by rubble that is not something of value to you,
It’s only my hard work, perseverance and the time I consume.
I know what this rubble means to me,
It is what I’ve put together to have a future I believe in;
And what you call my destinies,
Are just a bunch of choices I’ll be making.