the fickle finger of fate

beholding sun, sending gold sunshine

I began filling stream-cut, steep ravine

with light and power, illuminating

dark, dead, eroded corners of mind.

then fetched water from blue heaven

frecking with abundance and passion,

to let soft roses and tulips blossom,

in an ancient, hardened eye garden.

without no reason no rhyme

gambling all to create sublime

I invoked letters from the psyche

in dabs of soulful, undying rhyme  

to define love worthy of Gods,

that’d soothe and succor souls

with just the power to override,

Aphrodite’s jealousy and pride.

but destroy all that I create,

thou, the fickle finger of fate.

I’d build beauty structures again,

La Vive! O ye fickle finger of fate.