There are many mysteries in my life
for which an answer for I do not possess.
Why after an almost a lifetime
of wishing I had a brother
only to find did when it was too late
to really get to know him?
Why after fulfilling a wish of a late friend
would the acknowledgement
that I yearned for
start to really, begin?
Why when I never wanted to drive
did I get involve in an accident
as a passenger and changed my mind?
Why after yearning to capture my past
and talk to some old school friends
did I find a stranger I barely knew,
but whom when we met recognised one another instantly
and hugged one another intensely
never wanting to let go
and when it came to part again, we felt like family.
I always have more questions
than answers to possess.
Why with the passing of each day
more mysteries come my way?
There is no logical reason
for all the mysteries in my life,
they just happen to surprise me
one every corner that I turn.
I hold no sorrow for them happening
only happiness and joy.
A Gypsy once told me
I was born under a lucky star.
It is possible she was right.
Lucky in my friends
and my extended families
that stretch around the world.
I think no man can call himself
luckier than that.
25 October 2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.