I don’t believe in destiny
for the leaves of my book are clear
and the pen that I hold
in the fast flowing ink
will form words that start to cohere.
I will not believe that the road ahead
is already laid out to the grave,
that the garden I walk
is merely cosmetic,
divided by a long line of pave.
I don’t believe that religion
or any imaginary friend,
can dictate my course
or predict the lay of the lawns
that I carefully tend.
They say that we’re all born sinners,
must live our lives down on our knees,
grovelling like animals
and begging forgiveness
from a creation that nobody sees.
I do not believe in fate,
this is surely a farcical fancy
and leaves the traveller
in the hands of the helpless,
desperate to raise up the ante.
For to follow a fanciful fool
or the voice at the back of the room,
is to relinquish hold
on the reins of your life
and be destined to live out the gloom.
I believe that we all
have the power to live;
the drive to do right as we feel,
that we don’t need a flock
or surrender to fate
nor the call of a distant bell’s peel.
Be true to yourself
and the path that you take,
don’t follow the lies and deceit,
dig deep down inside
for the strength you possess
and defiantly deny your defeat.