Luck and chance are fickle friends:
never ones to be counted on,
but always do seem to come through.
Their fortunes can restore hope and renew,
but their fury can dig your grave another inch deeper.
Their presence is rarely known by the few they help,
but those who anger them know to expect a visit.
In their light, everything seems exquisite
but moments later, like the tide, they’ll pull you under.
They plan our futures.
They make our decisions,
and dictate all our future collisions.
Their help isn't all its made up to be:
built on uncertainty and held up by hope.
Yet the magic they make is a wonderful thing,
and to those fleeting moments, we do cling.