What Are the Odds?
What are the odds that flesh so frail,
Could house a mind that tips the scales.
Dream, decide, and plot its way.
A fleeting breath, a spark of mind.
Yet dares to judge, to seek, to find.
What are the odds that life carries
No promised path?
A future uncertain, save for death.
Yet still, we chase with borrowed breath.
What are the odds that wisdom’s light,
is it born from the self, not chance or sight?
That knowing both the world and soul.
Were the best tools to know?
What are the odds
of the prize we chase.
Becomes a cost
we can’t erase?
Then, to stand in a final state.
We question if we learnt too late.
What are the odds that fate is spun,
Not by the stars, but deeds we’ve done?
What are the odds of raising a question?
One voice, thought, and action, all for one’s demands.
What are the odds of the alter before closing the stand?
