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Writer's pictureTheresa Baxter

Mere Chance


‘Twas magic made this world

No word off tongue was twirled

Just conjurer, not god

Survived despite the odds

No map nor destiny

Never, purposely

Confetti tossed in air

Then landed without care

Created and destroyed

Mere litter to be toyed

What glory to be found

When sprung forth from the ground

Such possibilities

From plains to open seas

Yet pain in every breath

No choice in Life or Death

When time spent in between

Will justify the means

Can everything in balance

Like potion poured in chalice

Determine who is first

To quench eternal thirst…?


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