Random Leaf #1994 precisely cut

I’m not faithful,

yet I still pray.

Though I hope

for good things to come—

impatient for Lady Luck

to kiss my cheek—

I’m always expecting the worst.

Yet somewhere deep in me,

I’m always hopeful—

hopeful that my expectations

will always be wrong.

I, too, believe the world is beautiful—

not just cruel—

a world where serendipity is common,

and blessings and luck

arrive after a storm has passed,

or in the middle of it,

or even when no tragedy ever happened—

just me, being paranoid.

But as it stands—

as it always is—

the world is cruel.

More so to the faithful,

the lazy,

the hopeless,

the romantics,

and those so dramatic

that they find solace

in pen and paper,

or in the leaves

of old, forgotten forests.