Accidental Freedom Fighter

The world permits prediction
Only as more recent pasts
Resemble earlier pasts

Over and over again,
Sometimes so closely that if
You know what happened last time

You already know what comes
Next. It’s exhilarating.
There’s power in prediction,

But it’s too easy, often.
Easy prediction’s the well
Of a desperate despair—

The unpleasantness you knew
You’d soon own, based on your wealth
Of past experiences,

The daydream you knew must be
Crushed, the vise around your head.
Remember as much next time

Something no one could predict
Occurs, however awful.
There’s freedom in that. There’s hope.