I tried to generate destiny once,
scraping dreams from under
over-buffed rocks no longer showing signs
of weather sprinkled over millennia.
I suppose the clinical approach to fate
leaves little to chance and I often think
the odds that I somehow found you
But here we are. Winds pound rocks
into sand and I count myself lucky
that I no longer have to sift, looking for
what I’ve managed to uncover in you.
© 2021 | Phillip Knight Scott
Prompts for this one: