Counterpoint Poem by Rando Santos

I

A longing is born
And the possible paths are full of bends.
Because what we are building with anxiety,
Can suddenly fill with termites,
To burst with misfortune just for a fright.
Luck sometimes curls up
As a subtle way of seeing discouragement on the march.
Nothing is left out of the circle of chance
Spinning in suspicious autonomy,
While we jump
From black to red and back again.
Because nothing can mocks
From the serene intransigence of fate,
With palm roots sunk into the reality
Of something that could have been,
—that which in his wisdom the Shaper had foreseen—
And which we men have discarded
For a deceptive mixture of pleasure and freedom.
Because destiny lives between us
It's our steps going out and entering
Into the Greater Will.
And though you will much,
You had better ask yourself if you must.
And even if you must
You'd better ask yourself if you can,
But you can't always
Not always...




II

Luckily
Pages have heroes.
You can spell the dice in the cube,
And you can opt for the third side of the coin.
There are great avenues behind every rough road
And there are embryos of miracles
On every aborted occasion.
Beware of omens and yearnings,
For every design is the divine eagerness
To warn us about the inexorable.
Nothing is the world without absurdity, ' I once said.
And nothing is absurdity without sanity, I say now.
How, then, do we justify small blunders?
Is it not human to fail the arrow?
However,
The most important
Is keep your eyes on the reward,
No one can wear your crown
Because like the glass slipper in Cinderella
Has been designed for you.