The Voices Within
The birds whistle in the morning,
Interjecting their comments
On a quiet morning.
Singing, their voices herald
A new day, a new resolve
A fresh perspective and
All that these things bring,
And in the quiet of the morning
Plans are made
Thoughts created, reinforced
Or thrown away – discarded
Like the leaves of a plant-
Their decay
Creates the new.
All of this done, as quiet voices
Discuss ideas, thoughts, plans
And plot the course
Through unstable passes,
Fickle currents,
Deciduous crossings
And avoid the dead ends
And the pitfalls of Life.
There is no secret.
No luck.
It’s all a game of chance.
Probability and statistics
Try to cut a path
In the fluid of the world.