Before time unfolds, no mortal soul can know

Whom fate will bring—a comrade or a foe.

A friend perhaps, an enemy revealed,

Or one who flitts, a memory unsealed.

Who brings delight, who plays a bitter game,

Who gives their all, who strips you of your name?

Who weighs each deed, each whispered, fleeting word,

While sharing bread and roof, unheard by none.

With some, simplicity's sweet grace is found,

With others, trust dares not tread that ground.

To open hearts, a fragile, tender plea,

From others, barred eternally.

One reflects in your soul a mirrored self you see,

Another, is born without affection’s key.

With one, in grief, to the uttermost you'll go,

With another, in joy, tribulation has no end.

What waits ahead, no human eye can trace—

Great victory, or sin's eternal disgrace.

For some, good fortune, a never-waning light,

For others, only pain and shadows of the night.

A battle waged for truth’s elusive prize,

While others cloak themselves in woven lies.

Thus live we all, betwixt virtue and its stain,

Blaming youthful fire and circumstance's chain.

We count the motes within a brother's eye,

Yet see no beam that clouds our own so high.

We strive to sting with tart, unbridled tongue,

And pierce the hearts to which we should have clung.

When clamor calls, we hold our silence fast,

Where hush should reign, our noisy passions cast.

The hallowed lost, we tremble at the gray,

And cling to ourselves unto their slow decay.

"I"..... we adore, in fits of praise and blame,

Then chase vain shadows and lose what made us flame.

To where this leads, no mortal can descry,

And life slips by, in fragments, day by day.