It's coming down the mountains.
It's climbing up the trees.
It's bubbling up from sidewalks
And rising to my knees.
It knows bad jokes
I often told and
Knows each time I cried.
Doesn't care about my failures
Or all those times I lied.
It is the Master of the Actual,
the Mistress of Right-Now.
It's Fate that's heading hard my way.
I don't know When or How.
hans ostrom 2021
