Of fortune

Fascinating word, is it not?

Without context, what meaning has it got?

There’s a fortune in silver and gold

That keeps you fed and out of the cold,

And there’s a fortune that is good and kind

And resides far more in the mind.

It’s fortunate if you earn a fortune,

But you can’t fortunately have good fortune

And I just wonder who decides

What works according to which guides.

And how funny that money so rarely

Is linked to fate in any way fairly –

It’s only when it belongs to ourselves

That we admit in effort it delves;

For everybody else, it’s blind luck

And it’s up to fortune where it struck.

Fortune. I wonder how much it reveals

The first meaning that comes on its heels.

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Lightning

Lightning wandering through skies,
Wind a-caring scared cries,
Dark’ning night is bleached to ash,
Wild forces are at clash.

Precious lace of mighty art,
Drawing continents by chart
In the auburn evening dusk,
Charging smell of grass and musk.

But bewatch the look of fury,
Answering not man nor jury.
Find the beauty in the beast,
Let the nature be your priest.

Prayer give to uncontrolled,
Turn the anger into gold,
Look for good in each of vile,
Be the one to rule awhile.

Gold veins

Everyone cracks into pieces sometimes –
It’s no wonder I became chipped too
But don’t expect me to hide my damage,
Ashamed and fearful of my past.
The events that shape who I am
Deserve more respect than to be ignored,
Shoved under the mat, erased, denied.
If you want you can see only the defect,
But I see the things I survived,
The things that made me stronger.
So I won’t hide my chips and cracks,
But bind them in shining gold,
Hoping, not dreading to catch your eye,
And show off my beautiful scars.
Maybe I look more fragmented now,
But I know the joints are actually
The places that will hold firmer
The next time I start to crack.
So I’m not afraid of breaking.
If anything, I’m looking forward to
The moment when I’m a crazy mingle
Of veins of cooper and silver and gold,
A work of art in tears and laughter,
The original porcelain in tiny bits,
Fragments within their mount of metal,
Each line a survival lesson in wisdom,
Turning pure china into precious stone.