Fate
From assassins fleeing but finally spotted,
One’s good image guarding and still it is blotted;
An ill-omened murderous car
Crushing one’s guiltless star!
A team playing out its heart but lifting no trophy,
Zero approbation bagging for one’s philanthropy;
A last- round knockout receiving from a punch-drunk pugilist,
God truthfully serving but still tagged an animist.
Also, forever battling with recognition
While not indifferent to its precondition
Or, of a sudden, experiencing health issues
After stepping into demanding shoes…
The jaws of Devourer Fate
Remain The Widest Gate:
That which would storm one’s path
And for days not important a bath.
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