There's a peculiar pattern
In all those loses that
Takes over my life.
Initially I will be anointed
With those fortune blissed
Chattels of my wants
Proceeding too nimbly.
But before me discerning;
It was all that I wanted:
It will be rather taken away in full blast.
And when I nigh adjust the pace
Of my track; those lost 'wants'
Replenish my Soul unbidden,
Molding me lively and elated.
Yet not waiting for me to taste
It's fruit and quell my hunger.
That in no time the entire tree;
Will be uprooted and hauled off
Sparing it berries all rotten.
I'm still oblivious either the
Problem lies with my destiny
Or with my destination!

© Ria Gladwin