Wheels of Fate

What brings him to me is unclear,
We met by pure chance you can see,
And now the forces bring him near,
No explanation perhaps by a seer.

As I ride this train listening to the kooks,
The situation leaves me feeling somewhat spooked,
Yet the exciting shivers do outweigh,
And all I can do is ruminate all day.

His face so sweet and full of stories,
Of ancient wisdom and future glories,
He lives a tale of varied moments,
Spontaneous in motion the thought his sense.

A transitional position an axis he sits,
Waiting for the wheels of fate to persist,
His destiny it spins in all directions,
For where it lands is not his own fruition.

He has lurked about and entered my mind,
In an unforeseen and unpredictable sublime,
But who really cares about applying such logic,
For the feeling inside is purely wild magic!

The Brighton To London Poet

© 2009 MCARB