Maybe fate is not just fate,

Maybe the moon is more than slate,

And maybe the serendipitous ways

Were all just make-believe.

 

Perhaps our luck is more than luck,

Perhaps the lock inside was stuck,

And perhaps we can never escape the clutch

Up the inevitable future’s sleeve.

 

Possibly our home was never our home,

Possibly euphoria resides in our bones,

And quite possibly, there it forever roams

In the lovely aquamarine.

 

 

Perchance someday will never come,

Perchance we’ve never truly begun,

And perchance the effervescent waves are done

Amidst the lines of you and me.