Poemander

For the one in a million, what's a million to one?

A fluke, a stroke of luck you'd say.

But no, I can't rely on fate, no pun,

My certainty is single shot: draw! fire away!

How many will go loosed before the very last?

A shiver, like parenthesis defines the apprentice.

What I have snagged along as outcast,

Restrain, refrain, retain, call masterpiece.

No, I shan't succumb to secular tendencies.

Whats value in prestige, acknowledgment and fame

To someone who lives life accepting consequences,

Not seeking mercy from the mobs, and who to blame?

You'd say, get real and get a life, look at statistics.

But, tell me, what's the use in numbers to a living soul?

Of singularity, born into the world of mystics.

Go on, Keep trying making sense of orders tall!

Can you take chances in this game if not for trophies?

Miss out on the millions and wait for the thrill,

Till someday someone releases detainees,

Locked up in these lines, convicts of my quill.

Till that day my soul shall crave of the home.

While doing her time, she'll shed tears a million.

Wherever they fall, rock softens to loam,

Go on, plant this seed, one shot in a million!