what are the odds?

 

out of a thousand simulations,

this is what I got.

out of a thousand points in time,

this is where I am.

out of a thousand thoughts to think,

this is what comes to mind.

so what is the likelihood 

that this is real?

are we just the slippage into incidence?

does probability produce 

predicable presence?

but are we beyond 

what thinking not so generates?

can I really be asking myself a question

that is not rhetorical before it is formed?

does mind always circumvent the truth

that can't be pronounced in words?

wisdom requires more than mindful words

to get wings that lift my being.

I want where that is as home,

whittle the rest of this down to nothing.

I just want essence before it got named,

just the shimmer of it 

before it got movement,

just the gusto before it got wind,

just the fervor before it got force,

just the verve before it got nerve,

and just the richness of unlikelihood,      

before it got mindful as to,

what are the odds . . .