Broken under Dark Skies, 5am

Imagine all your angels
And deities in the air.
The cosmos you may pray to
Can’t save you and doesn’t care.

Your own goodness and genius
You may have once believed in
Won’t deliver you either,
May well dig you in deeper.

Actual accomplishments
Are largely lucky timing
And twists of coincidence.
You don’t have to accept this,

Of course. You can stay convinced
Of destiny, reliant
On a fated existence,
And you can live defiant

In the face of consequence,
While the odds fray you to bits.
You may even get to live
A life others wished they did,

And think your exception is
Beyond the statistical,
Something that God intended,
A life of significance,

But maybe consider this—
That wise, good lives accomplished
Stay rare would suggest the rest
Are what the rest should expect.

Yet. If only humans can
Imagine human values
Are part of some divine plan,
Then also only humans

Can invent accusations
That can blame you for failing
To accomplish that wisdom
And goodness humans define.

You can still, while you still can,
Go stare at the uncaring
Lights of deep night to feel blessed
Angels haven’t answered yet.