Moving mountains
Unescapable fate we wrap so willingly
Around our shoulders and desperately call it hope
Or a spiteful surrender, like a horoscope
As it becomes our destiny so seamlessly?
Hoping for the best or bowing blindly to fate
We ravel in despair, or long for green pastures
Fate, auspicious disguise to cowardly postures
Hope, hollow-point bullet served on a silver plate
Illusions however, white sheet hiding the shame
Of Lives sealed by the inevitability
Of doom to which we forfeit prime eternity
Hope? Fate? Immutable destiny be thy name?
Unless we call thy “Faith”, and quite so suddenly
Find ourselves moving mountains instead, fatally
Let the board sound
Rabih
The Idea Sounding Board 