I know how destiny flies
It is no cast of dice
Eventualities are paradise
as ages climb the horizon’s rise
And yet, we who no comfort asked
from the leaden days that rasped
For resilient souls outlast
the deception in Man’s masks
The past is a pyke
It is a spear, in the present, rife
cutting like a gynaecologist’s knife
to give future’s newborn life
The moment is always spring
for the foliage it brings
It is you who make my wings
flutter animation in everything
I await the celebration outside
when you and I will, between us, divide
the stars of the night
Our reward is justice in full flight
And I live in belief of that miracle
The taste of God’s divine treacle
His, is fate’s telling tackle
that will cast evil in the shackles
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