Regarding Chance...

Sometimes the doors that lie before us
Seem as if they’re miles away

Sometimes the fear of what’s before us
Clutches your spirit and tells you to stay

Sometimes the voice that's most familiar
Is not the best to listen to

Sometimes survival hangs in the balance
More often than not it‘s up to you

Could it just be pride, costumed as chance
That leads the crippled to learn how to dance?

Could it just be fear, masquerading as ease
That keeps one stuck and blaming the breeze?

An infant, an elder, a crook, and a saint
Would you know of Picasso, if he relied on the paint?

The tossing the turning; the largest word: if
Tells a mother in Haiti that a box is a skiff,
that the ocean’s not deadly, that the currents will lead
Where the hard ground breaks easy and welcomes her seed

Stay here and perish, be it today or in years
But don’t question what kept you
Twas likely your fears.