Events, cohabitors of life’s stage,

Script our actions like the strings of the puppeteer.

We are helpless, dribbling fools

In the glaring light of potential tragedy.

With nary a warning, change can be thrust upon us,

Rendering us helpless like children.

How awful the feeling,

Being strangled by crises uninvited, we succumb.

What does the universe want from us,

Constantly testing our resolve,

Raining on our parade ‘til we drown;

Then as if a cruel joke, tragedy is replaced by joy,

Happiness diluting stress.

Not that we ever hoped for the worst,

But that it had never transpired at all.

In retrospect doesn’t this all go toward our maturation;

Making us whole, defining who we are

And who we will become.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~