Too Late To Clean a Sullied Slate

Crazy Fate mocks People Fuzzy How we become a couple In business, in marriage Make commitments To nurture the carriage Teeming with developments Cultivated into a caring art When from the bottom of our hearts we feel love So smart We float and fly above wings of the dove Fate flies in our face To dangle a carrot Into hearts so enamoured on the surface they displace Caution and in a crazy motion parrot I love you As if we uttered an eternal verity When we can’t rescue Life from love celerity That rumbles like an avalanche Breaking through hearts torn into Every which way in a tranche Meant for one but consumed by two Hearts immersed in a race for self destruction Plotted on dotted lines Under instruction From legal tomes whose spines Weary of complaints and recriminations desensitize Mouths that blurt vows we seldom keep Which we satirize and dehumanize When a few months or years down the line, eyes weep Upon realizing a mistake Sneaks into the dreams thought so priceless With relatives’ reputations at stake Grows so tasteless Imperatives dictate we take tough decisions Fed on wisdom That can no longer condone incisions and excisions In a faulty kingdom Whose future no longer certain Deserves a conversation with fate To ascertain, maintain and retain Sanity although it seems too late to clean a sullied slate.